


Sky Above, Voice Within.

by trashofficial



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: #KAIDANFUCKS, Bros I'm going to give y'all so many tropes..., But lots of fun in between, Crazy Ex Girlfriend, F/M, Friends to Lovers, God...the TENSION..., Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, more tags to come, when i say slow burn i really mean it and i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashofficial/pseuds/trashofficial
Summary: Vael is a mixed race woman living at Tel Mithryn under the care of Elynea Mothren since birth. After being attacked by cultists, Elynea arranges passage for Vael to Skyrim just as her own mother had done for her safety during the Red Year on Vvanderfell. Afraid and reluctant to leave, Vael later comes to find that Skyrim is exactly where she needs to be to fulfill her destiny.Kaidan's creator is @livtempleton!
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Kaidan
Comments: 54
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first ever SKYRIM fic. I'm nervous because I'm researching while writing so go easy on me and there may be spelling/grammar errors but i'm excited af to post and get feedback. I also LOVE??? when my fics are interacted with. Feel free to comment or come chat with me over at https://the-bae-who-lived.tumblr.com about the fic and where you'd like to see it go! Thank you for reading <333

"I'm trying to summon an Ash Guardian.” Talvas starts, prominent brow furrowed, deeply engrossed in his practice. As he should be. “I'm just having trouble deciphering Master Neloth's handwriting.” It’s awful. Chicken scratch if she’s being honest. Luckily for her, it’s Talvas’s issue to read it. “I don't mean to be rude, but I need to concentrate."

He could have been rude --- _truly rude_. He could have taken a page from his master’s spell book and told her outright to fuck off into Oblivion and quite pestering him while he’s working. But Talvas, as gifted as his master, is nothing like him in the slightest. It would be an insult! Talvas would never speak to her or _anyone_ in such a manner. No, the Dunmer is one of few of their kind that is genuinely _kind_. And she is lucky to call him friend.

With an exaggerated sigh, the young woman kicks off from the sturdy mushroom base of the apothecary, turning to face the coast of the island. Through the other large mushrooms, she can see the island across the way. Smoke billows, spilling upward into the sky from the Red Mountain day in & day out even though it has not erupted since the early years of the fourth era. The sight never grows less eerie. She can only imagine what it would be like to live on Vvanderfell, to inhale the fumes of burning _everything_ from rock to remains.

“Perhaps if your master weren’t _racist_ , he’d teach me and then I could help you.” She finally replies, arms crossed over her chest. She doesn’t have to look in his direction to know his narrowed hues were on her like glaze on a sweet roll.

“Vael...” Was it the bitterness in her tone or his genuine compassion that caused Talvas to give up on the Ash Guardian and finally give her attention? 

A large part of Vael is unbothered by the master wizard’s opinion of her as she had been experiencing Neloth’s prejudice since a young age. But his distaste for others extends far beyond not liking those who are not of his own race. Or rather, fully of his own race. He need not admit it to her face. His leadership of House Telvanni speaks for him. It’s wrong, but she looks at it this way; she is half Dunmer by blood of her mother, Talvas full. While he teaches Talvas, he does not seem to like him regardless of race. Generally, he’s unpleasant as they come. But at the very least, he steals away into his tower much of the time. Better up there than down here to spew his pompous and condescending remarks. 

With raised brows and something of a smirk upon her lips, Vael knows she has struck a chord. And not long after does Talvas realize she is only jesting with him. He shakes his head and all the while, her smile grew. 

“You shouldn’t say things like that…” That isn’t the end of his thought, “even if they are true.”

_Ah, there it was._

With a scoff, she replies, “Oh _please_ , Tal. You know just as much as I do that you’d like to lay into him no holds barred.”

Talvas remained silent as he slipped through the journal Neloth supplied. Shutting the indecipherable pages a moment later, he admits a nonverbal defeat for the day and shoves the journal back into his knapsack, shrugging it over his shoulder.

“Maybe so, Vael. But if I did, he’d kill me. And then who would teach you magic?” 

Vael took his words into consideration and quickly came to the conclusion that he isn’t wrong, necessarily. For as long as he has been Neloth’s apprentice, Neloth has unknowingly taught her by proxy through Talvas. For over six years now, Vael has piggybacked off what Talvas has learned. Now twenty, she’s had plenty of training in basics. And she’s the first to admit that she may not be the greatest mage, but she knows enough. If she were to hone in on a skill then maybe she would be as good a mage as Talvas is becoming. Instead, she reads. Because reading about something is far less taxing than actually doing it. Make no mistake, Vael is not lazy, but _**fearful**_. Capability has nothing to do with it. Nonetheless, Neloth wouldn't take her seriously as an apprentice. He regards her as a waste of space and nothing more. 

“Certainly not Neloth.” She snorts, knocking lightly into his shoulder. The pair share a laugh before Vael’s name is being called from above. Looking upward, Vael pretends to have trouble seeing just who is speaking, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Surely you’ve finished your chores for today, girl!” 

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything that gives me personal pleasure before my chores, ma’am!” Vael calls to the elder who, despite her own beliefs of Telvanni & her disposition, loves the girl dearly. Anyone could see how the old woman’s face grows soft when she is near. 

“Do not tease me!” The woman warns to which Vael grins.

“But I’ve finished my chores and have decided to jest for my own personal pleasure!” High spirited, she ruffles the feathers of her care giver who tuts from afar.

“The tongue on you, girl…”

Pleased with her response, Vael gives way. “I’ve fed the mushrooms and swept the stairs like you asked.” 

The elder nods her head in approval. “Then fetch me my shipment from Raven Rock. It’s due to arrive from Skyrim before sunset. Talvas, certainly you can spare some time to escort her.” Alternatively, that means he’s got no choice but to go.

“Get to it, then!” She shouts not a second after, shooing them from the top step.

Elynea Mothren is as old as she is impatient. 

But she is good to Vael and that’s all that matters. Vael can be equally as difficult, stubborn and mouthy. Bidding her a goodbye, Vael links arms with her travel mate and they spare a wave back at Elynea who can’t help but grin at the pair for they have an abundance of joy that they find within one another that she has seldom found herself. Only when they are out of view does she finally go back inside.

Vael and Talvas set off toward Raven Rock, on guard (and edge, quite frankly) as they pass through the Ashlands. An Ash Guardian wouldn’t protect them if they were on the go, but it couldn’t hurt to place a few in the surrounding area for protection. What’s worse is that it matters not if you’re traveling during the day or night. The Ash Spawns don’t care if whether it’s the sun or moon that’s shining. They will arise and they will attack. Luckily, the both of them have spent over two decades upon Solstheim. They know how to handle spawn among other threats of the island. 

A green light, more vibrant a green than any tree rooted on this land, transcends the clouds. It often catches the golden optics of the young woman. Though, it isn’t the first time she’s noticed them. They’ve been here for years, popping up one after the other. The most notable that she’s seen in Raven Rock and then not far from Tel Mithryn. The All-Maker stones, they’re called. Curious things built by even curiouser people. Never has she made to take a closer look. No one she has spoken to would advise anything other than to keep a distance. Talvas told her of their nonsense, how they chant a mantra like it’s air they breathe. Indoctrinated by one called Miraak, whom Vael only knows of from eavesdropping, those beings aren’t in their right mind. She steers clear of both his followers and further knowledge.

Still, the view of the Temple of Miraak upon the mountains is daunting, disturbing from Tel Mithryn. It’s hard not to wonder what goes on that they do not see. Are these people a distraction to the horrors that occur within the temple? The guards don’t seem to pay mind to them. In fact, it seems some have even partaken in the construction. Most concerning of all are the missing people. The missing women. Elynea will not travel alone for many reasons and this is one of them. And the only way Vael is allowed even within a short distance of Tel Mithryn is if she is accompanied by Talvas.

Raven Rock very well may be the safest place in Solstheim which is truly saying something. It’s surrounded by stone walls and water. Not to mention, it’s guarded heavily by the Redorans. The island’s sole place of trade and commerce between provinces would be daft not to. The ships docking in Raven Rock are not of East Empire Company standards. However, they make do since the Company no longer travels to these parts. But the authoritative presence doesn’t extend to the outer reaches. There are more underlying issues going on than the guards are handling. It makes her wonder just how much they know, how much they’re ignoring.

ooo

Crossing the threshold of the Bulwark into the village, the ship at the dock comes into view, the familiar Nord captain shouting orders to his crew. The men haul up shipment as a line forms composed of those who are also expecting goods. Vael takes her place to wait.

“Mind if I step into the Netch for a drink? Elynea doesn’t make that large of orders, does she?” Talvas asks, a hopeful look in his eyes. Though, he also wouldn’t be opposed to keeping her company should she request it. But they have another trip back ahead of them.

“Go drink, be merry. You deserve it training beneath that---” Talvas stops her, reluctantly, from speaking ill of the wizard among townspeople. Despite rarely leaving his tower, he would somehow find out. Elynea would pay and his already harsh attitude toward her wouldn’t help.

“Go...It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll meet you inside once I’ve gotten the shipment.” With one last look, Talvas heads toward The Retching Netch and Vael watches as he weaves his way through the small crowd. Once out of view, another comes in.

Vael’s smile fades as she lays eyes on a figure standing before the steps of the temple. Vael knows well enough they are no worshiper. At least not at this temple. A hulking stature is the least of the being’s intimidating front. They don a mask akin to no race she has ever seen before in her lifetime and robes that skim the ground. Not an inch of flesh is exposed. It makes them all the less mortal and all the more menacing.

For how long she’s been staring is beyond her. She only knows that they have been staring for equally as long, if not longer. The notion sends a chill down her spine. It helps her nerves not when the line of consumers behind her openly show their frustration that she’s holding the line up.

 _Oh_ , so she’s been staring for a decent amount of time.

“You’re looking in the wrong direction, _mixed breed_. The shipments are that way.” A man, a Dunmer, spits. Lips part but not a word in her own defense springs free. She’s in no state to argue. Especially with someone who sinks as low as to comment on her looks. Instead of engaging, which it looks to be what he wants for sake of satisfaction, Vael refuses to give the man any type of response, let alone look at him as she turns to fill the gap in the line.

She can’t keep her eyes forward for long, though. Only a moment later, Vael dares to glance back once more in search of the being. And like a ghost, he is gone. The woman opts to remain alert for her own safety and for the courtesy of those behind her. Although, they don’t deserve a shred of respect from her to begin with.

“Name,” A gruff voice speaks, readying himself to head for the pile of orders.

“Mothren.” Vael supplies.

Soon, parchment is placed into her arms. Brushing by the elongated line of others, she makes her way to the inn, noting how grateful she is that the mask wearer had since disappeared. The inside of the inn is small. Talvas is not hard to find, seated at the bar and making what sounds to be jovial conversation with Drovas, a worker at the inn. He’s friendly enough, introverted, but a good listener she imagines. 

After a bit more listening, however, she finds the conversation is not jovial at all. It’s heated, rather. It takes quite a bit for Talvas to grow angered or even so much as annoyed. He’s never raised his voice before and Vael thinks this may be the first time she’s heard his tone rise.

“You’ve seen them, haven’t you? They stalk from afar and once they’ve set their sights on their prey, they come in to snatch them and no one does a thing about these missing people!”

Cultists. Alright, maybe she’s heard him rant about this before. But it was only to warn Vael, to remind her to keep an eye and if ever, to use all he’s taught to her over the course of his time as an apprentice.

“Remind me not to tell you anymore rumors…” Drovas mutters, sweeping away the shells of nuts left on the bar’s wooden counter.

“They aren’t rumors, though! Even Neloth knows there is something more going on.”

“Then why ain’t Neloth doin’ anything ‘bout it?” Counters another patron, words slurred before the day’s even out. 

Both Vael and Talvas could give an answer. But for once, she remains silent on the matter of Neloth and his reasons for doing what he does or doesn’t do. This isn’t the time to joke or to talk badly about someone they don't particularly care for. People are missing. Those are the people that deserve their energy and attention. Apparently, there is more to the story than any of them understand. Inching closer, Vael places her hand on Talvas’s shoulder to draw his attention.

“Vael.” He says, acknowledging her. “We were having a conversation about the cultists on the mountain. They’re kidnapping people, you know.”

Vael merely stares. She _does_ know. Everyone must know. One doesn’t have to live in the heart of Raven Rock to _know_. Their stones gleam at all hours, people spreading the word of Miraak as though it’s all they _can_ do. And his temple is large, black and visible to all on the island. You have to be blind and deaf to comprehend the power he and his followers possess. Hells! The Retching Netch’s very own barmaid hasn’t been seen for near two weeks. And the priestess of the temple in over a month. Who knows who else has been missing and has gone unaccounted for?

“Drovas, still no word from Andromeda?” Concern laces Vael’s soft tone as she asks about the barmaid. The Dunmer shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together. He had been sweet on her. This must be a painful time. One that Vael hopes she never has to endure.

When she looks back to Talvas, he is gazing at her, wearing a pained expression himself. He’s conveyed his worry of her before. It’s part of the reason he teaches her what he knows so that she may protect herself if need be. But would she be able to if the time came? Would she know when she’s in danger or how to stop it in its tracks? Again, these are things she hopes she never has to learn answers to.

ooo

The pair leave soon thereafter Talvas’s bill is paid off. Only the remaining light of sunset will illuminate their way home. She tries not to think of the darkness or the masked being from earlier. They only make her anxious. She’s got no choice but to keep her eyes peeled and her arm looped through Talvas’s for her own comfort.

Raven Rock grows smaller and smaller with every step they take. And yes, she is watching their backs. But Vael must remind herself that every step away from Raven Rock is a step closer to home. They are _**going**_ to make it home. Elynea is awaiting their return, surely pacing about wondering where her ingredients are. Simply for the dramatics, she’ll lay into the both of them while they giggle like they did when they were children and then she’d send Talvas off with a swat to his behind as she saw him out the front door. A book is most definitely awaiting her in that parchment, as well. She felt it's thick binding. And once Elynea turns in for the night, she'll be left to read by the fire like she so often does. 

“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, you know this, right?” He asks after several moments of only the sound of their footsteps, disturbing the thoughts Vael found solace in.

“Of course I do.” They best keep speaking to a minimum. They must be aware of their surroundings and not caught up in sentiments that could be shared once they’re back. He doesn’t cease. Instead, he leans closer as if to make it abundantly clear to her what he’s saying. 

“And you would tell me if you ever felt unsafe, right? I could teach you how to cast an atronach for when I can be there with you. It will follow and protect---”

Vael could make like earlier today and kindly tell him to shut up but she’s can’t. She can’t even tell him to stop, to look ahead, to see just why she has gone rigid. Frozen in fear of what stands before them, the woman comes to a halt, orbs blown. Talvas finally senses what is wrong, cutting himself off when he feels her resistance. He’s pulled back slightly by her weight, leaning in with great distress at the expression upon her face that had gone as white as the moon.

“Vael? Vael, what’s wrong? What---” He understands then as he sets his attention before them just as she had.

Two masks intricately carved are the faces they meet, tusks where a mouth should be and symbols for eyes. And yet, they stare them down. Their stances are telling enough that they plan to attack.

Talvas makes the first move, honoring his words. He wouldn’t let them hurt her. And judging by the way she is struck with horror, he’s got his work cut out for him.

Casting destruction spells in their direction, the cultists advance on Vael who can only tremble where she stands. The cultist, despite what goes on behind him, steps towards her as if they’re a hunter looking to capture prey. She supposes that’s exactly the case. Vael doesn’t even realize she’s stepping backwards until she trips, falling backward onto her behind, the wind knocked out of her.

Scuffling in the sand, the moments seem to pass so slowly. As though she were in a dream and couldn’t run or scream. It’s when the cultist lunges downward to grab as her that she makes good use of her legs, kicking the hard sole of her boot into their chest and then again into the mask! It’s not enough and if he gets ahold of her, simply fighting won’t work in her favor. He is too big and she is vastly smaller than him, unarmed and without protection of her body.

“Use what I taught you!” Talvas shouts, sending flames to the cultist who jabs his dagger at the apprentice’s gut. He leaps away, multitasking as best as he can given the circumstances of Vaels newly found incompetence. She’s stricken with worry now. Not only for herself but for Talvas who is fighting for them both.

The worst she could do is not try at all. Hands flinging outward before her, Vael casts flames to keep them at bay. But they are far more advanced than she and it does little but make them angry. It’s then that they growl. It’s a man. A man who seeks to take her. When he lunges this time, he does. A lone gloved hand easily wraps itself around her wrists, the other throws a punch to which she surprisingly dodges as she struggles beneath him. Magic is not an option with her hands bound and Talvas is too busy fending for himself to save her. And while she trusts he would if he could, she knows now that she must do it on her own.

Looking downward, Vael catches a glimpse of a sheathed dagger resting in the leather belt he wears around his hips. Her dress is hiked up over her thigh, making the contact easier as she nudges the dagger with the inside of her knee. She can feel its cool sharp edges nicking at her flesh but it hurts far less while adrenaline pumps through her veins. The grunts of her struggle are loud, her shouts louder. And somehow, between both grunts and shouts and blood pumping in her ears, nothing can drown out the sinister chuckle of the man within the mask as he gets off on her failing efforts to break free.

She might have considered the freeing of the dagger a win if she were able to retrieve it. No, it only falls to the sand as she had, helpless and quite frankly, useless. A weapon is there for her use except she is bound by a single hand and the dead weight of a grown man atop her. The only thing light about him is his robes---

Robes…not armor, but robes of cloth and leather. It dawns on her then. Wiggling with all her might, she manages a knee between his legs for a change, shoving upward with everything she’s got to knee his most sensitive spot. He swaps his chortles for groans, rolling off her in agony that he’s sure to recover from or at least suck up so that he can capture her once more. Vael wastes no time in snatching the dagger, stabbing it into anywhere it will sink only to pull it out and repeat. All the while, she yells her frustrations with every stab. She hadn’t even noticed that the man was no longer breathing.

Only as her name is being called over and over does she come back to the present. Talvas nears with caution despite wanting to grab her and run, gently prying the dagger from her bloodied hands before quickly chucking it away so it can bring no harm to either of them.

_He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead._

**Dead**. The word hits her like a heavy blow to the chest and suddenly, she's conflicted beyond measure. All guilt, disgust and relief overcome her at once, fighting for the top spot. How could she possibly bring herself to think clearly now while sat upon the body of someone who had just tried to murder her themself, covered in dirt, sand and blood that isn't her own (that she's aware of) and feel such conflict within herself? 

Then again, how could she _not_?

Talvas makes it a priority to pull her from the body, far enough away that he can assess her for any potential injuries. Petrified, Vael retreats back to that same glazed over look in her eyes, in absolute shock of what had just transpired. There is no reaction when he cups her face between his hands, none when he asks if she’s alright. Vael complies when he hoists her up, gathering their dropped and scattered items. Elynea wouldn’t be happy about her sand covered goods. But knowing how much she cares for Vael, she would be mortified of what happened.

Carrying most of her weight, which truly isn’t a feat for Talvas, he pulls her along the shoreline, praying to the Divines that no Ash Spawn will come to finish them. He would fight with everything he’s got left in him, but with Vael limp at his side, it might just be the end.

Vael hardly registers they’re back until Elynea is rushing toward her, shrieking at the mere sight of her girl covered in blood from the skirt of her dress to the highest point of her cheek. The young woman is laid down, her caretaker ordering Talvas to explain what happened while she bustles about the apothecary in search of cleaning supplies and healing potions alike. Vael doesn’t contribute to the explanation for words escape her. And soon, consciousness does as well before she even hears the regaling of the tale.

ooo

She wakes when the sun does, well over twelve hours after she was laid to rest in her bed at dusk previous. Vael’s eyes open and close, sleep prevalent as she blinks it slowly away until she’s faced with the textured view above, the inside of the mushroom’s walls going on and on until they reach the most bulbous point. Breathing, because she’s lucky to have that ability, Vael inhales deeply and exhales for longer. A trick her mother had taught her as a girl when her fear of Ash Spawn practically debilitated her. Disorientation fades with each passing breath. She becomes more aware of her surroundings, her reality, the soreness of her muscles.

What happened last night was a fear she never thought would come to fruition and one she will not soon forget. That’s when the anxiety begins to spread within her chest as it had last night, causing her to shoot up from the bed in a panic. Elynea is there by her side within seconds of her stirring, petting away loose strands of wispy dark hair from her face and comforting her as she attempts to bring her a bit of peace through a calming potion, gently forcing her to take even the smallest of sips. Vael does and eases herself back once again. 

“Rest, my sweet girl.” Elynea coos, continuing to pet the messy muck laden hair that clings with sweat to her skin. When she finally gains the strength and courage to speak, she notes just how dry her mouth is. She opens her mouth anyway.

“Where is Talvas?” Vael asks, voice a raspy timbre.

Elynea stands from the edge of her bed to retrieve a rag drenched in cool water. Vael can’t express how nice it feels once it makes contact with her forehead. Still, she awaits an answer.

“Talvas was here all night with you until early this morning. Now, he is with Neloth. They have traveled to Raven Rock to report the incident with the guards.” The woman explains. Though, by the look on her face, Vael can sense that there is more.

She stares for a long moment, vision following every movement made until Elynea meets her eyes. The elder sighs heavily, setting aside the rag. Yes, there is more. When she takes her clammy hands within her own, what is left to say, she knows, isn’t good. Vael shifts uncomfortably in bed.

With tension filled silence to prompt her, the elder finally says, “I’ve asked Neloth to arrange for your passage to Skyrim.” She finally says. “You need to rest. You’re leaving once they return. Drink this---”

Vael is all sorts of confused, the potion’s calming effects seemingly wearing off sooner than expected as she pushes herself to a sitting position once more, shoving away the potion as she stares incredulously at Elynea.

“ _Why_ \---why are you sending me to Skyrim? A-and alone, nonetheless! I was attacked while I was with Talvas and you think I won’t be more likely to be attacked alone?!”

“You have been marked by Miraak’s followers. They will not stop until they have finished the job! Miraak has no presence in Skyrim. Don't you see? You are no longer safe here, Vael.”

“Who’s to say I’ll be safe in Skyrim? Surely it isn't all sweet rolls and meade there!” Vael retorts.

“This is our only option. The threat of Miraak only grows here. At least in Skyrim you can live. They have cities built for protection. There are more of your kind---”

“My _kind_.” A slap to the face with all but words as a hand. Offense paints every part of Vael’s face, disappointment in the words the woman she has considered a mother decided to use. She pulls her hands away, not wanting to be touched. Of course Vael is well aware that Elynea is privy to the Telvanni way. She may not practice the law as Neloth or the other Dunmer of Solstheim do, but she still holds true to the ideas of which she was raised even if only as a young girl. 

Elynea presses lithe fingers to the bridge of her nose, eyes scrunched shut.

“I only mean to say that there are far less prejudice people in Skyrim than there are here. I know. I have been. I have friends there that have cast out the ideals of the Talvanni. You would be welcome there. You would be safer.”

Vael still can’t wrap her head around this. Or perhaps she simply doesn’t want to. This place is her home, these people are her home. And because there is a threat to Solstheim, she must go while the threat gets to thrive?

Tears well in the red rims of her eyes out of frustration, fatigue and devastation.

“You’re just going to send me off?”

This feels less like a precaution for her safety and more like a way to be rid of her. Intrusive thoughts have commonplace here during this revelation, making her think the worst when really, the woman at her side's intentions were not meant to cause more harm. 

“It’s what my mother did for me as a girl when the Red Mountain erupted. She didn’t think twice before sending me on a boat away from that place. My mother did that for me and it’s what your mother had done for herself and what she would want me to do for you.”

“I’m not a girl! I can make my own decisions And my mother would have kept me near and protected me!”

“Precisely, Vael! You are a girl no longer and your mother is not here to protect you!”

Inhaling sharply, Vael looks away. Her mother has been gone for nearing ten years. And Elynea is not really her mother, either. She is old and if anything, Vael should be the one to protect her. It’s abundantly clear that a decision, involving more than just Elynea herself, has been made. Vael would leave Solstheim in hopes that Skyrim will treat her better.

ooo

Talvas and Neloth returned approximately an hour later with confirmation from the captain of the _Northern Maiden_ that Vael would receive safe passage into Skyrim. Neloth’s steward had taken to packing for Vael while Elynea urged her to to drink up the concoctions she provided that would ensure the wellbeing of her sore muscles and her hyperextended mind. She bathed as well, scrubbing away the grime from her skin and out of her hair while Elynea scrubbed at her clothes in attempt to salvage the dress she had been wearing during the attack. The blood wouldn't fully come out. She has enough clothes. One dress stained in blood and bad memory would not be missed. When the time came for her to embark on a final journey to Raven Rock, to which Talvas and Neloth would accompany her on, Vael couldn’t seem to remain stoic toward Elynea as she attempted to.

She never could hold a grudge. There was little to no point especially since she’s learned that you never know when your last interaction with someone will be. **Make them count.**

“Sweet girl…” A palm finds temporary home upon the rounded cheek of the young woman who closes her eyes to keep tears from falling. 

“Thank you.” No, she wasn’t thanking her for sending her off. She was thanking her for the years of support and love she offered to her and her mother while they found refuge at Tel Mithryn despite Neloth’s distaste. Elynea sure took verbal beatings for standing up for them. Vael would never forget that kindness.

“Take care of yourself. Live. Learn. Take what we have taught you here at Tel Mithryn and do well for yourself in Skyrim.”

“I will…I’m going to miss you so very much.”

Blood matters not in their circumstance. Vael would always be the child Elynea never had just as her mother was. Pulling her into her arms, the old woman squeezes with all the strength she has.

“May Maphala cloak you and Azura light your steps.” She murmurs, emotion taking control of her voice. Would the Deadra protect someone who does not actively worship them simply because someone who _does_ bids it so? Vael thinks not. Otherwise, she mightn't be in this situation right now.

"Go now or they'll leave without you." She orders, sniffling as she lifts her apron to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

Wouldn't that be such a _shame_?

With those last words and a mouthed _goodbye_ , Vael descends the steps with her belongings strapped tightly to her shoulders. She can’t bear to look back and so, she keeps her eyes forward as the trio walk on. With Neloth present, Talvas and Vael cannot truly act like themselves. Not until they reach the docks where Vael knows the wizard will fall back and put distance between them. Not out of respect, but simply not caring to say _goodbye_ himself or listen to the friends share an emotional farewell.

Neloth is emotionless that way, only caring about himself. Not that Vael cares. He's not said one nice thing to her in the entirety of her life and she'll be damned if she let's him begin now that she's going. Besides, the only goodbyes she needed were from Elynea and now from Talvas.

“I’m going to write you. And I will come to Skyrim for you one day. I plan to take my studies to the College of Winterhold once Neloth’s tutelage is done.” Talvas tells her with a small smile, hoping such a plan for the future will lift her spirits. It does.

“I look forward to it.” Her voice is small and shaky now, stood on the dock with her dearest friend bidding her goodbye and doing his utmost to send her off on a positive note. But then, his face falls and Vael knows what's coming. Funny how one can learn to read the ones they love like books just as they learn a language or a habit.

“I’m sorry for what happened last night...”

“ _Don’t_. That was neither of our faults. Just---”

“Right, _positive_.”

With a closed lipped smile, Vael leans in closer. “I’m glad you’re here to see me off. Divines know Neloth only agreed to come along so he could have the pleasure of watching me leave forever.” They laugh regardless of how very true it is and, how sad.

“But it won’t be forever.” He's looking for something of reassurance, but his comfort is interrupted by the powerful voice of the Nord captain.

“Oi! Lass! Let’s get a move on. We’ve got a schedule to keep.” He shouts among the chaos of his crew preparing to depart. Vael nods in understanding, turning back to say one final thing to Talvas before she steps on board.

“No. It won't be forever." She beings, "We’ll see each other again. I know it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! i'm back with a second chapter. like i said, it's a lot of scene setting and getting vael to where she needs to be so she and kaidan can fuck---i mean meet and have a wholesome and pure friendship. ANYWHO, here is chapter two and i hope you guys can pick up what i'm puttin' down. 
> 
> come say hi over at https://the-bae-who-lived.tumblr.com OR leave me some comments! <3 
> 
> thank you to everyone reading((((((((((:::::::::

For the first night in all of her twenty years, she slept beneath the stars and upon the wavering waters. The _Northern Maiden_ rocked. Not too roughly, but not without notice, either. It was almost _calming_ , like being cradled to sleep in your mother’s arms. Or it could just be the calming draught finally kicking in. Maybe not every night would be as easy as this one seemed. But for her first night away from home on board a ship with men she does not know nor does she trust to fall asleep around, Vael thinks she’s doing quite alright. 

They hadn’t bothered her. Not by stealing gazes, not by making lewd comments, not by asking questions. Even if they are curious as to why a young woman is traveling alone to a foreign land on such short notice, they don’t make it known. Vael is sure they have secrets and personal trifles of their own that they don’t want to speak of. They understand. Or perhaps they really don’t care. Either way, she’s thankful that she doesn’t have to speak of the night previous that had led her straight to this ship. It would only do to remind her of a pain she’s desperate to forget. 

Eventually, the stars fade so that the largest of them all can shine. It’s warm beneath the sun. So ,much so that she has to shed the shaw from her shoulders and roll up the sleeve of her dress. Windhelm, from her basic knowledge of Skyrim, is one of the coldest cities.It will not call for shedding of layers or rolled up sleeves. Not that she was looking forward to this change at all, but she especially isn’t looking forward to the cold. Tel Mithryn only grew cold in the evenings. She can’t imagine that Tel Mithryn’s example of cold and Windhelm’s norm would be even the slightest bit similar. Luckily, Varona prepared her well enough with proper clothes. 

Clothes were the least of her worries. Books, too. She was right about the contents of Elynea’s order the other night; a book was awaiting her. She had enough supplies to last her what she believes will be a week’s time if she rationes them. But septims...there are very few. That was a bridge she would cross when it came time. She had lived off of the land she was raised on, never having to worry about shelter or food. Her mother worked for her keep and so had she until...

The point is that she is educated enough to find work in a local shop. An apothecary might feel somewhat comforting to her, like home. Although, she would accept the work she was offered rather than hunting for her ideal job. She never thought about prospects outside of tending to Tel Mithryn before now. And she knows that beggars can’t be choosers. Not unless they’ve got the nerve and sense of entitlement. 

Now truly is truly when Vael must put to use the lessons she has been taught. This trip should give her the time to think of what her strong suits are. She knows how to care for a home, cook and clean, tend to various types of plants.Which are poison and which are capable of wondrous things. Vael knows much about potions and ingredients with which said potions are made. Surely those alone will help her. And of course she knows novice spells...

A frown finds its way to her lips as she stares forward, looking at nothing in particular while realizing that even though she’d studied beneath Talvas for six years, even if it weren’t a traditional apprenticeship, she failed the other night. She failed herself and more importantly, she failed him. 

But she had fought one of the cultists off with her bare hands...and bare knee. She killed him with his own dagger. Right, she killed a man. Those images won’t soon fade. She can remember the muffled gurgling beneath his mask and the metallic scent of his blood coating the both of them. She must have had one hell of a first shot. His struggle ceased soon thereafter and before Vael knew it, she was back in bed. 

The rolling in her stomach returns tenfold. When she stands abruptly, she gains the attention of the crew. She leans over the rail, clutching tightly as her stomach threatens to purge its contents. Nothing but the clear liquid remnants from earlier spill from between her lips. The men whistle, talk of sea sickness erupting from a few of those who have had the experience themselves or at least witnessed it. Little do they know that it isn’t the waves that are a catalyst for her nausea. 

Swaying slightly as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, she takes something from the recollection of last night; she could do to learn self defense for when her knowledge of magicka escapes her. 

Oh, but she hopes she doesn’t ever have need to defend herself in a life or death situation for as long as she lives. And like the matter of coin, she decides as she plops herself back down, she will cross that bridge when she comes to it.

ooo

Somewhere along the line, the sun becomes masked by clouds of grey. Such a strange atmosphere...colorless and cold, dark but not night. The pace of the boat seems to have slowed down, cautious of the path traveled.Plains of ice scatter about the eerily calm waters. And from the sky...snow. It falls in gentle flurries that latch themselves to her braid and lashes. Vael is more accustomed to ash than snow living on Solstheim. Debris remains to litter the island. The snow melts away. Between her gloves fingers does Vael catch flakes only to watch them form a collective small puddle in her palm. They are worlds different, polar opposites; snow and ash. But they fall just the same. 

“Land ho!” The shout tears her from her thoughts, whipping around to see for herself the land spotted. They seem to be coming in quickly, the colossal walls of the city in full view, growing larger and more detailed.

Vael stands from her spot on the wooden boards closest to the stern, gazing in awe of this new land. And it’s only the coast she can see. Blue lips part, inhaling the constricting cold air into her lungs, cheeks pink from windburn. Parts of her legs have gone numb, tingling in various places. She merely shakes them out while gripping onto the wooden pole at her side for support as they pull into the docks. The crew make to tie up the boat, securing it to the dock. 

She didn’t think she’d be happy to finally arrive. But in reality, she’s just eager to be back on land after hours of sailing. The brunette moves to grab to belongings and plans to give the captain a quick goodbye. The impromptu plan falls flat because he decides now is the time to initiate conversation at the very last moments of the trip.

“Welcome to Windhelm, little lass.” Vael’s lips press in to a thin line. One might say it’s a smile of sorts. 

“Thank you.” Is all she replies with, making to step forward when he remarks, “You didn’t sleep a wink last night.” 

Can she be frank?

“I was on board a ship with a group of men I don’t know. If you were a woman, you’d understand.” Or if he had common sense he may fathom why she hadn’t slept as well. 

The Nord chuckles heartily, nodding his head as if to agree that she had a point. Then, he leans just a tad closer than she’d care to have him.

“You were on board a ship with a group of men you don’t know in the middle of the sea. We could have thrown you over and left you to freeze and no one would know. But we didn’t.”

Was that meant to comfort her? To ensure that these men are...not necessarily good, but decent men as far as morals go?

“But you didn’t.” Vael repeated in a small voice. The captain laughs again, clasping her shoulder and maintaining close proximity. Can he feel how tense she’s gone? 

“Safe travels to you, lass.” Pointedly, she jerks her shoulder from his grasp to finally step on dry land. 

Well, somewhat more dry. The snow had not let up, packing tightly between stone. She better see her way into the city before nightfall. Following the staircase, she’s met with double doors as tall as the Bulwark itself. But the wall hadn’t stopped at the highest point of the doors, towering intimidatingly above.

“Welcome to Windhelm, traveler.” A feminine voice comes from within the helmet, a welcome that sounds more genuine than the captain’s. It’s easier for Vael to accept as the doors are opened for her entry. 

She doesn’t know what she expects crossing through the entrance way but it doesn’t let her down. Some find history in books or ancient runes but there is history in every step she walks upon, remains of destruction or simply wear and tear giving the city character. The architecture is different here than anything she’s seen in Solstheim. Raven Rock can’t compare even while Windhelm looks as though it has seen the very worst of its troubles. They’re worn so plainly on every stone. 

Down the way some, Vael can hearing the crackling of fire. As she rounds the corner, she finds just that; a fire surrounded by townsfolk, arms stretch forward so that they may revel in the heat. A Dunmer and an Argonian huddle unknowingly for body heat, their skins exposed to the cold. _Why_...Vale has never seen an Argonian in person before. Only as drawings in books when she studied the various races that inhabit Tamriel. 

Vael doesn’t realize she’s staring until the Nord opposite the pair trying to keep warm expresses his disapproval quite _loudly_ , standing at a distance as though he believes them to be _infected_. 

“I didn’t think I could hate anything more than a _greyskin_. But you, _Argonian_ , have proven me wrong.” 

So much for Elynea’s argument that racism exists at a lesser scale here than in Solstheim. Of all the things she could hear stepping foot into the city, it’s this. Maintaining her own distance, Vael keeps her hood up and her head down. The last thing she needs is to be judged for the pointed tips of her ears or the very obvious fact that she is not of a full race herself, but of two. But that begs the question; would he think her lesser because she is of Dunmeri and Nordic blood or would he see her Nordic blood as a reason to treat her better if only by a fraction?

Furthermore, does her Nordic blood give her privilege? 

Now certainly isn’t the time for theories. Not as the day draws to an end and the storm picks up. The only pleasant familiarity she can cling to is the inn. Candlehearth Hall, it’s called. The wooden carved sign swings in the wind as if to beckon Vael inside. As cold as she was told, but far harsher than she expected, she needn’t more than a sign from a sign to head inside. 

Shaking off the cold, Vael is drawn in closer by the music coming from above and the scent of candles burning, their glow warm and welcoming. Somehow, it’s more comforting than the Netch which was small and rarely occupied by more than three patrons at once. Here, it seems as if there is a celebration being had. Such is the way of the Nords and their proud nature. 

“Come on in, we’ve got plenty to eat and drink!” 

Should she embrace her Nord spirit and celebrate on her own her safe arrival to Skyrim with meade and a meal? Really, there is nothing to celebrate. Nothing of great accomplishment. She was cast away from home to find a new one and a new way of life. Happy to be alive, nevertheless. Which counts for everything. But Vael opts to pass on wasting away septims when she’s got snacks in her knapsack to hold her over until she can find a stable source of income. 

She can only do so when well rested.The uppermost part of the hall calls to her, specifically the chair nestled in the corner farthest from the group gathered around the bard. She’s taken a break in her set to listen to the requests of her listeners. These are songs she has never heard as bards in Solstheim were few and far in between. Rarely do people willingly travel to the island. Especially that of a bard. 

But her childhood was not musicless. She recalls the sweet tones of her mother’s voice lulling her to sleep or cheering her up when she grew sad. And oftentimes, Vael herself sings to keep herself entertained. Whether she’s able to carry a tune or not, she can’t say. But it is nice to hear from those who _can_ for a change. 

Lute in hand, the bard begins to strum, her voice flowing into song. Vael sits back in her chair, resting her head against the wall and pulling her knees to her chest, listening closely to the lyrics.

_We drink to our youth, and to days come and gone.  
For the age of oppression is now nearly done.  
We'll drive out the Empire from this land that we own.  
With our blood and our steel we will take back our home.  
All hail to Ulfric! You are the High King!  
In your great honor we drink and we sing.  
We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives.  
And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!  
But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean.  
Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams. _

Curiosity strikes her like lightning. The High King of Skyrim is King Torygg. No song must be true in lyrics, but surely the Jarl wouldn’t stand for his people making a fool of him. 

“Need anything, dear?” Vael looks upward to find the tentative barmaid that had been serving drinks since she sat down now standing before her expectantly. 

“No, thanks.”

“Well, alright. Let me know if you need anything.” 

On a whim, Vael calls back her attention. “Actually---!” 

She turns with hands placed upon her hips and a single brow quirked upward. 

“The bard sang of _High King_ Ulfric...why?” 

Much to Vael’s surprise, she laughs! 

“Ulfric has _defeated_ Torygg. Therefore, he is the rightful High King. Many disagree. But you will not find a soul here who does. Not alive, at least. Unless they're good at keeping their traps shut.” She explains, revealing to Vael something she had not known or even expected. 

Of course, there was talk of Civil War threatening to break out among the Skyrim for some time. The murder of the High King must have been the final straw. Elynea must really not have known to the extent at which this situation was. How in her right mind did she think that Vael's mixed race would be less of an issue here. She can’t imagine the Dunmeri presence in Skyrim, let alone Windhelm, is for Ulfric’s reign. Though, they aren’t partial to the empire, either. Which leads her to believe that they are the ones, as the blonde described, good at keeping their traps shut. Otherwise the lot of them would be dead. If Ulfric would murder a king, he would murder common folk.

News, even of this caliber, doesn’t travel as quickly overseas as it does in this land, apparently. You won’t find a courier willingly traveling about delivering letters with Ash Spawns running a muck. Unless the Empire comes sailing to shore, rumors should be taken with several grains of salt. This, _unfortunately_ , is no rumor. 

Amid the chatter of the hall and the music playing, Vael can hardly find a moment to feel silly for asking the questions the woman seems to think are a joke in themselves. 

“And is he here in the city now? After he mur---” The barmaid shoots her a look as if to tell her to watch her tongue. Vael swallows to recalibrate the direction in which her question is going. “After his defeat of Torygg?” 

“He lives within the Palace of the Kings.” 

Vael shrugs her shoulders. She hasn’t a clue where this palace resides.

“If you’re asking if he’s here for an audience, he isn’t. I’ve heard whispers that he has taken the Stormcloaks into the south.”

Again, this means little to her. 

“You must be new here, outlander.” To take it as a positive or a negative, Vael can’t decide. It’s a truth is what it is. 

A truth so painfully obvious. 

Another night without rest is not an option. Despite the conditions of the city’s political and racial stances, the corner of Candlehearth Hall is a better place to sleep than the middle of the Sea of Ghosts.

When she wakes the following morning, it’s with a start, the memory of her whereabouts temporarily failing her. And quickly does Vael reaps what she had sewn by sleeping in a chair all night. Her muscles are sore from neck to ankles. It would seem she isn’t the only one who spent the night, three patrons scattered about. Some still fast asleep, loosely clutching their tankards that drip remnants of wasted mead.

And as the rest of her begins to shake off sleep, she supposes that she made it through the night safely as all of her belongings are still at her side. Gathering them in her arms, Vael decides it’s time to start her day. She’s got her work cut out for her. OR rather, she’s got to find work first before she’s got it cut out. Shrugging her knapsack over her shoulder, she starts for the door.

The streets are busier this morning. Whens she looks into the sky, she thinks it may be because the sun is managing a strong shine through the clouds. Something else she becomes acquainted to the moment she steps outside is the smell of fish. Vael grimaces, never having been one for game of the sea. But where there is scents of fish, there must be a fish stand and perhaps a marketplace. 

She finds just that the further she walks, following the crowds. Nestled in the westernmost quarter of the city are vendors from the town’s shops, their stands full of product. And there it is; the stand of fish. They dangle, on display for any looking to purchase. Vael passes by the merchant with a nod of _hello_ before she finds herself stood in front of a stand carrying ingredients. All of which she could name without a stutter. 

“I recommend the Lavender. It’s soothing in baths and teas.” Appearing at her side is a Dunmer woman not much older than Vael. She fingers at the lavender hung from the rack. 

“And it helps us sleep better at night.” Continuing, Vael watches that same hand travel south toward her very round belly. 

**Us**. A mother and child. There weren’t many children on the island. In fact, she and Talvas may have been the last of the young ones and they themselves were no longer children. The site of a life growing brings joy to her. Particularly during this difficult time. 

“It’s a favorite of mine as well. The same of chamomile.” Elynea would order is specially for her for Solstheim’s conditions made it impossible for such an herb. “Do you know who the vendor is?”

Rounding the wooden stand, the elf takes her place behind it. “This is my stand. I am Alda. I’ve ran this small business on my own for some time now.” 

On her own? She dare not ask about the father of her child. If it were a tale anything like that of her mother and father, she would not want to prod at healing wounds. Even so, a gentle, but hopeful, smile spreads across Vael’s full lips, golden optics glittering. 

“My name is Vael.” She introduces, immediately following with, “I could help you. I’m looking for work and I know all there is to know about herbs and ingredients---” The shaking of her head brings Vael’s proposal to an early end, the fading of her smile expedited. It wouldn’t have been that easy to secure such a job.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t afford to take on another hand. I just barely get by as is.” 

There is not one mouth to feed, but two. The woman needs all of the coin she can make from her small business. Vael can’t condemn her for not giving her a job and she doesn’t plan to end her search here in Windhelm. That is, until, the elven woman speaks again. This time, leaning over the stand’s wooden barrier to keep their conversation private. 

“You are new. I’ve never seen your face in this city for as long as I’ve lived here. And for as long as I have lived here, it has been nothing but torturous. A word of advice; if you’re looking to settle here, **don’t**.”

The low whisper of her voice doesn’t shield away the affliction. Looking into eyes she’s not seen before, Vael finds her cryptic words to be attested. There is prejudice here. Prejudice supported by their very own Jarl. A Jarl who murdered the High King and seeks the title for himself. It’s evident that this woman is not staying here by choice but for the greater good of herself and her unborn child. 

Vael bobs her head once in understanding and turns away in search of another stand when she feels a grip on her forearm. 

“Wait---” 

And with great anticipation does she do just that; _wait._

“Meet me tonight in the graveyard. You’ll find it’s just down this alleyway and to your right.” Where her head gestures, Vael’s eyes follow to find the narrow alley. “I may have a means of work for you outside of the city.”

ooo

Any work that is to be discussed in a graveyard after dark can’t be honest work. Yet, here she is. Stood among the dead and clutching herself tighter and tighter with each gust of wind that blows through, bouncing on one stone wall to the next and back again. But the cold is the least of her worries while in the graveyard. She finds no peace, the eerie aura doing nothing but making her paranoid. The only reason she resolves to meet Alda is because she had tried her luck at every stand and even a few storefront shops and they all turned her away for work. The only prospect now is one of which details have not been shared. 

The crunching of snow alert Vael that she is no longer alone. Alda is bundled up, carrying a torch in one hand while the other cradles her pregnant belly. Such a peculiar sight to behold in a graveyard. 

“Thank you for coming. I wanted to meet somewhere discreet.”

“And a graveyard in the middle of the night is what you consider to be discreet?”

There is a knowing look upon her features now. And maybe even the ghost of smile. 

“There is something I want to show you before I tell you about the job. Come,” Ushering Vael closer, she uses the torch's light to illuminate a small memorial consisting of dried flowers and a wooden plank with a crest carved into it. It’s unlike the others that rest here in caskets with their names etched into stone. If she hadn’t pointed it out, Vael would have never even know there was something to be seen in the first place. 

“This is the memorial is for my husband, Mikavier. He’s been gone for seven months.” 

Golden optics soften as she gazes at the woman in mourning who carries a child that will not have a father. It’s too familiar a story to Vael. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

“Well...that’s the thing. I’m not sure if he truly is dead.” She says. But there is more. “His remains were never found.”

“He just disappeared?” There has to be _**even**_ more.

Turning fully toward Vael, the woman prefaces with, “If I tell you my story, you must promise to hear me out completely before making a decision to help me.”

Divines, what is she getting herself into? But Vael can’t NOT at least listen to her. She feels compelled to by her own compassionate nature. 

“I promise.”

“My husband was convicted of treason to the Jarl. His allegiance was to the Stormcloak rebellion. And then he met me...” There isn’t a trace of sadness on her face for a long moment, dazed with memories with her lover. It doesn’t last long. “He changed his views and refused to fight with for this rebellion because he wasn’t fighting for me or for us. He was locked away in a prison in the southern part of Eastmarch. It collapsed not a month later.”

“And you don’t believe he died in the collapse?” 

“I don’t. Prisoners escaped that night and fled. There are bounties for their arrests. Including my husband's. You see, my husband would not be welcomed back into the city even if he weren't convicted. He was despised by those who do believe in the rebellion. He wouldn’t be able to come for me himself nor would he be able to trust anyone coming in or out of the city to deliver a message.” 

She very well may be right. He could be alive for all either of them know. And if he is, he wouldn’t want to risk sneaking back into the city and being caught and torn away from his wife and child again. Just because the prison collapsed doesn’t mean he is no longer a prisoner that must serve his time. Still, if Vael were in her husband’s position, she would have done anything to reunite with her family. 

“So what is it you’re asking of me?” 

“He has family in Helgen, a village in Falkreath’s hold. They don’t care much for me. They don't care at all for me. But they do for him. I’m asking you to investigate this abandoned prison to see if you can find any trace of my husband.”

It isn’t as terrible a task as it could be. She could have been asked to commit crimes herself. Just the same, here are many things that would suggest she isn’t qualified to take on such a job. But Alda, pregnant and ready to burst it seems, is far less qualified. Vael, in good conscious, would never allow her or someone in her circumstance to do this herself. And if the prison is not too far and it’s no longer inhabited, what could be the harm in taking a look? 

“There is only one drawback,” _Oh no..._ ”I cannot afford to pay you myself. But if there is evidence of his death or his whereabouts, you could bring it to his family. They would pay you!” 

So this is a favor she’s asking for, not work with guaranteed compensation.

“How do you know he isn’t already with his family?”

“His youngest sister was passing through two months ago. She was headed to the College of Winterhold. He hadn’t returned to them.”

A lot can happen in a matter of two months. In Vael’s experience, a lot can happen in much less time than that. But there must be a reason he hasn’t. She doesn’t want to crush the woman’s dreams of finding her husband. The idea that he’s not found a way to communicate with her and return home to his family is concerning. 

Vael, for reasons she knows, feels guilty. This woman is desperate for answers, for help. And she’s grasping at _what if’s_ and wishful thinking because it’s all she’s got. It isn’t about money, anymore. It’s about helping someone in need. Someone like her mother and soon enough, someone like Vael herself. 

Swallowing, Vael takes a moment to look down into the snow. There are options. But none of them other than to accept the job feel _right_. 

“I will go to the prison. But---” The woman doesn’t look put off by Vael’s interjection, too elated that she agreed. “But I will need supplies.” 

“Yes! Yes, of course! I will give you what supplies I can offer.” 

Vael’s trek to the abandoned prison would commence the following afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your favorite prisoner and Vael finally meet!!! Leave me some comments or come talk with me over at https://the-bae-who-lived.tumblr.com ! I'd love to hear from you <33333

With a freshly marked map and a knapsack full of supplies, Vael is off for the prison. She was advised to follow only the cobblestone path for stepping too far could lead her astray and straight into trouble that she certainly doesn’t want. She was also told that the cold would not continue for more than a few miles as the further south into Eastmarch from the Pale that she travels, the warmer the climate becomes. Until there is proof of that by beads of sweat trickling down her brow, her head will remain wrapped, face protected from the blistering winds. And like the day before, the sun is shining even through the thickest of clouds. By the time it begins to set, she’d arrive at the prison. 

What is there to expect? Just how bad is the damage? And would she even be able to gain entry? Alda couldn't give her any answers. Otherwise, Vael wouldn't be heading to the prison if she already knew all of those details.There was no use worrying herself about the architecture, or what remains, rather. She’d find out when she arrives and assess. What is concerning to her not what she will find on the outside, but what she may find on the inside. 

Surely a tragedy such as the collapsing of a prison into the waters below would not go without making victims of prisoners and guards alike. Vael has seen but three dead bodies in her lifetime. One, her mother. Second and third, the cultists. 

But she had made Alda a promise, nonetheless. Payment or no, she had taken on the duty of bringing something of peace. And if not peace, then a piece of evidence. Even if only after the fact she comes to conjure up potential issues that could arise. This path is clear enough despite the snow, free of Ash Spawn as far as she’s aware. And as long as she continues to _be_ aware, to have her wits about her, she’ll be just fine. 

Along the way, she had passed travelers just like herself. Some getting to where they’re going by foot and others atop their beasts--- _horses_. There isn’t a horse in sight on Solstheim. Nearly two hours into her trip and she wishes she were as fortunate to afford one...or at least accustom to walking for several hours at a time. She won’t deny that a ride from the carriage stationed just outside Windhelm would have been the most ideal as she’s never ridden in a carriage before...let alone a horse. But she is more than halfway to her destination with daylight to spare and the muscles of her legs only burn a little. 

Eventually, Alda’s words prove to be true. Trees once caked in snow now sway, tall and evergreen, free of icy chains in a breeze far more enjoyable than the chill of the north has to offer. Water flows freely here, too rather than frozen solid. Vael even stops to take a minor detour off the path (which she isn’t holding against herself because Alda will never know) to cup two handfuls of water into her mouth, parched. Such beauty is to be beheld, vibrance and serenity until anything she has ever experienced in her lifetime. Would she be foolish to discard any previous qualms of Skyrim simply because of lovely weather and a homely mill just a few miles further up the path?

Perhaps. But basking in the good would do no harm.

She stops to stare at the homes, walls constructed of wooden panels and roofs composed of hay. They're no mushrooms and the occupants are not Dunmer. Nord, most likely. A small boy playing on the steps of his home waves, unaware the danger of strangers...or too pure to know there is even such a thing as evil. She waves in return a goodbye and sees herself off. 

The sound of harsher waters makes itself known as she rounds the rocky mountainside to cross the arched bridge. A sign resides at the opposite end. It’s tall, weathered by nature but its words distinguishable enough. 

_Windhelm  
Ivarstead  
Solitude  
Whiterun_

Vael recognizes but two of the names. _Head for Whiterun. It will be the safest route to Helgen._ Alda had instructed. She wasn’t far from the prison now. It was only a matter of spotting it and deciding the most practical means of entry. 

Vael soon finds just how impractical entry will be at all. 

Only a few steps up the trail and she can see, plain as day, the prison. In fact, if she looked hard enough back on the bridge, she could have seen it. It blends so well into the mountain as though it’s part of it. Stepping closer to the edge, more of its ruins become visible, sticking out from the water below. There is no way she will be able to get across the violent waters if she tried. The waterfall causes too much mist and the current would pull her under. Vael wouldn’t stand a chance against it. 

The irony of it all is the door in damn near perfect condition just waiting to be opened. She stares at it for a long time, glancing between all of her obstacles before huffing. There has to be a way. She need only look at it from a different perspective. 

Ambling back to the pathway, determination in each step, she walks further until she stands level with the falls. Large rocks poke out from the swift waters. Enough so that she could step over them like a makeshift bridge. But when they catch the scraps of sunlight, she can see how wet they are and just how easily she could slip and fall to her demise. No...there has to be another way. 

Yet another bridge that crosses the water catches Vael’s eye. She stands at its highest point, alone in her head as she creates as many alternatives as she can, weighing them heavily before discarding them all together. 

Is the peace of mind of someone else worth Vael’s physical well being? 

Looking off into the sky, she contemplates this question, but not for very long. 

Snapping back to the reality before her, Vael can hear the cries of a man. She looks about, whipping around in all directions until she realizes that it comes from below these disturbing bellows. Hurrying from her place on the bridge, the young woman steps into the riverbank. No one that close could have made their agonizing bays sound so far, so muffled. 

Panicked, she doesn’t think twice before stepping right into the water. While it’s not significantly calmer in these parts, it’s more shallow. Beneath the first arch of the bridge is a manhole from which the screams are echoing through. 

Again, she finds herself struggling with what is _easy_ and what is _right_. It would be easy to give up all together, to pretend like she hadn’t heard a thing. But it wouldn’t be _right_. And if she’s being totally honest with herself, it wouldn’t be easy for her in the slightest after all was said and done. Hearing cries for help and actively choosing not to help would eat away at her. 

_Do it now because you couldn’t do it for Talvas._

A decision is made. 

Shoving away rotting planks of wood, Vael eases herself downward, dropping to her feet in the with a splash in the narrow flooded tunnels. Little light that was shone inside. Now may be a most opportune time to exercise her magic by creating a light to guide her onward. A hand raises, then, lighting the way for her to slosh through the murky waters. As uncomfortable as wet boots are, they hold no candle to the clearer moans she hears. And hearing them doesn't hold a candle to experiencing the pain that brings one to make such a sound. She must be closer than expected. 

She walks, conscious of what may lurk in the water...and in the tunnels themselves. She turns a corner. From above, that same water drips upon her still covered head, the sound an annoyance. And come to think of it, it’s now the only sound. The screaming had stopped.

The underground tunnels don’t last long. They come to a dead, leaving Vael to push herself onto the raised platform to which she can better see a way out through an opening beyond. She stows her light, leaping up with a short grunt to catch the stone rim with both hands, the toes of her boots climbing up the wall until she can successfully hoist herself up and into a cell. 

Torches dimly light the inside of the prison just enough to see, and just enough to remain shrouded in the shadows if it came to it. Vael freezes for a moment, listening closely for any sign of life. Part of her hopes the screaming ended for reasons not pertaining to death. She has to keep herself from gasping when the squeaking of rats scampering by slices through the silence. Cautiously, Vael continues, the cell door open just wide enough to allow her to pass through without making a sound more than she needs to. 

Laying around are shriveled pieces of parchment, broken potion bottles and discarded armor. Nothing of substance. She fears there may be nothing here but a prison left to deteriorate in squalor. To her right is a table just below the torch. Atop it... _coin,_ scattered and a bag full of it as well. Vael runs her fingers over the gold that she could simply pick up and stuff into the pocket. But she won't. She snatches her hand back from temptation. and instead focuses on the faded and tattered written letter beneath a key. She slides the key aside in favor of the letter. If she thought Neloth's writing was indecipherable, this brought a whole new meaning to the word. She does her best but only the final sentence is legible enough. 

_Meet me in the antler wood, my doe._

_With all my love,_

_your stag._

Vael looks forward in thought. There was nothing that suggested this was Mikaveir's writing. Then again, there was nothing that suggested it isn't. Pocketing the letter for safe measure, she eyes the key next. The cell from which she came was unlocked but that doesn’t mean the rest are. Vael reaches for it when she hears a cough. 

She can’t contain her surprise this time, gasping as she searches for the coughing culprit. In the cell closest to her is a man. His arms are raised above his head, individually chained to the wall while his body hangs limp, legs bent on the ground but not far down enough to where he can rest on his knees. Her brow is furrowed as she nears the cell for a closer look, pained at the very sight of _his_ pain. His head hangs low, dark tresses like a curtain over his face and signs of abuse written all over his bare skin like spilled ink and scratched out words in a letter. He must have been who was screaming, freshly tortured by whoever else is here. She should keep a better eye out for her own sake or she could end up just like him. 

If he senses her there, he doesn’t acknowledge her. He may already be accustomed feeling another presence and knowing what is to come. There isn’t a doubt in her mind that his cell door isn’t locked and that the key on the table won’t open it. She sneaks back to procure it. Stealthy, she slips the key into the lock, twisting until it clicks ever so lightly that it could have passed for a drip of water falling to the floor. Slipping inside, Vael stalks forward, relieved to see that his broad shoulders still rise and fall. 

She isn’t sure just how to get his attention without startling him. Because surely if he knew she were here, he’d had looked up by now. Slowly, she reaches forward, fingers twitching the closer they get to his hair. She sought to push it away so she could reveal his face and so he could see her clearly...that, and there were curious markings along the right side of his face beginning at his forehead and ending in the hollow of his cheek. Blood would be her first guess at what it is.

Vael is wrong in assuming he doesn't know she's there as his breathing becomes heavier and he finally growls out, “When I get out of here, I’ll kill you all myself...” startling Vael instead. But she doesn’t cower from him. No, she feels quite a need to keep calm and reassure him. 

“ _Easy_...I’m not here to hurt you.”

He straightens as best as he can, his expression shifting from fury to confusion as he meets her eyes with dark ones of his own. 

“ _What_? Who are you?” He questions only to infer a moment later, almost hopeful. “You’re not with the Thalmor, are you?” It’s not so much a question as it is an observation.

If she were to reveal half of herself to him, would he lump her in with the rest of the elves in Tamriel? Not many seem to believe that the whole of Dark Elves are more complex than they appear outwardly. 

“No---no, I’m not with the Thalmor.”

Her confirmation is be a relief for him as his demeanor changes almost instantly, as if that alone gave him strength. She supposes if someone were to stumble into her cell by chance while she were imprisoned and tortured that she too would find strength in the kindness of a stranger. 

“Good. Quick, get me out of here before more come.” He urges. And where she once felt the need to help him, she can’t help but be curious of why he’s here at all. 

It may be a stupid thought, but Vael wonders if this could be Mikaveir. It couldn’t be that simple, could it?

The man can sense her hesitation, searching her face. “Well? What are you waiting for?” 

“Are you...are you Mikaveir?” 

“ _No_. I’m a man chained up like a **dog**. Are you going to help me or not?” The prisoner grits out. Vael had to ask even if deep down she already knew the answer. She keeps asking to be spoon fed when really, she needs to carve a spoon and feed herself. 

“I’m going to help you but I’d like to know just _who_ I’m setting loose before I do. Why are you here, anyway?” 

“The Thalmor invited me to high tea, why do you think?” For a man in his theoretical shoes, he sure doesn’t regard his tongue...or maybe he does because he sighs a moment later, chest deflating. “I dunno...some Justicars ambushed me outside of Falkreath.” 

“There must be more to it.” Vael counters. Even in the lack of light, she can see his muted frustration with her.

“I might be more inclined to tell you once you get me out of here.” 

Fine. He’ll have it his way, then. Vael would have to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it may work to her benefit to have a bit of extra muscle while investigating. 

Putting the key back to use, she releases him from his holds against the wall. He isn’t nearly as strong as the chiseled muscles of his upper body would suggest, falling to the ground the moment his arms are set free. The blood must have drained from them, rendering them damn near useless. Vael kneels at his side, rummaging through her knapsack in search of a healing potion. He needs it more than she needs to keep it in her bag. Popping the cork from the bottle, Vael places her hand on his shoulder to encourage him sit up, mindful of his wounds. 

“Here, drink this.” He looks at it as if she were offering him muddy water to drink. “Go on. It’ll be easier for the both of us once you do. I don’t want to have to drag you out of here.” 

He snorts, taking the bottle himself. Before pressing it to his lips he mumbles, “ _Like you could._ ” 

He’s right. She probably couldn’t given his size. Which actually proves to be much larger when she assists him in standing. If the city walls of Windhelm were human, they might look like him. Tall, wide, brooding... _cold_. He must be so cold. Letting her hand drop from his arm, Vael steps back to give him space. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Well enough that you don’t have to try and drag me out of here.” 

Shaking her head, Vael leans down to grab her bag, securing it over her shoulders again. “Come. I need help searching the prison---”

“Search it? You do realize how _dangerous_ this place is, right? It’s not meant for exploration.” 

"I came here for a reason."

"Yeah? And what reason was that? A pet skeever?"

Glancing around, she knows that this place is a death trap. There is no solid evidence of Mikavier to be found. A different story could be told if the letter was signed with his name. Answers won’t be written on the walls. If there are bodies here, they’re decayed or bone and not able to identified. And she certainly hasn’t a clue what this man looks like.

Maybe she would be better off just paying his family a visit in Helgen. 

“Alright. Let’s get out of here, then.”

“Wait, there’s one more thing.” A scoff escapes her lips as she cocks a brow, staring him down. 

“Oh, do we have to _retrieve_ your pet skeever?” 

“ _Ha-ha_. It isn’t like that. One of the Thalmor got his hands on my sword.” He must see enough of her features to tell that she’s vexed by his hypocrisy. “I know I’ve got no right to ask, but I could use your help getting it back.” 

“The sword is that important to you?” 

“This isn’t me being sentimental. That sword means a lot to me. I can’t let that greasy Thalmor get away with stealing it.” 

Vael hasn’t loved a possession so much since she was a girl. It was a doll made of thick tree branches, a face carved with a smile. That doll had been her second best friend right behind Talvas. Until Elynea accidentally used it for firewood. She might have done anything to get it back then. 

“Which way did he go?”

“Headed deeper into the prison, and with luck, he’s cornered like a rat.” 

Vael follows him to the cell with the busted wall, unlocking it with the key. He moves forward in attempt to take the lead but Vael reaches for his arm, her free hand glowing with flames ready to be shot. 

“Stay behind me. You’re unarmed.” A look of slight disgust overcomes him as he takes her flaming hand and his lack of weapon into consideration. This time, she’s prepared for a fight. Brushing by, he reluctantly lets her. 

They sneak along the wall, the sounds of the Thalmor muttering to himself closer than expected. They come to an opening into a new area. Vael takes a quick look within, the dark robes of the man draping on the ground. The elf is cornered just as he predicted. 

Her heart races within her chest. They have the upper hand, the element of surprise! Vael thinks she may be able to get away with a distraction to avoid killing another no matter how guilty or deserving they may be. 

Aiming her fire at his long robes, she sets them alight! He jumps up from his chair, stumbling and struggling to put out the fire. That’s when the man behind her springs forward into his space, shoving him down as the flames disintegrate his clothes and leg. Vael maintains her stance in the frame, ready to strike again if she has to for the sake of keeping the prisoner safe while he retrieves his belongings. She can see the beginnings of lightning crackle between his fingertips. She puts an end to them with another burst of flame to his fire free leg.

The Thalmor screams as the man had earlier, the flames engulfing him anyway even though it was not her intent to kill. He can’t bring himself to fight back it, busy ensuring that he doesn’t burn to death. But before she knows it, the prisoner is stomping out the flames with steel boots he had managed to slip on, his sacred sword in hand.

The once mighty Thalmor whimpers beneath the man he tortured. The tables have turned. Vael watches, transfixed on the fear on the elf’s face. 

“Don’t get too comfortable, Thalmor scum. I just wanted to kill you myself.” 

The man raises his sword far over his head before unleashing a wicked swing downward, tearing the head straight off of his body. Even though Vael was privy to what was about to happen, she doesn’t look away. But she should have. 

Once the threat was gone, he moves about to place his armor on, kicking at the dead body’s burned leg. “Son of a bitch had it coming.” 

The silence must be loud for he looks up after several moments to find her stood there, straight as a board and white as a ghost.

“Oi, you alright there?” 

Vael comes to, meeting his dark hues. “Yes.” She replies shortly. He steps closer, adjusting his braces.

“Look, I know that seemed _harsh_ but if you only knew what I’ve been through in here...” 

Vision drifting away, he continues on to say, “I can’t thank you enough. I know you didn’t have to help me.” 

She nods in place of saying _you’re welcome_. And then her eyes land on the sword, bloodied by its latest victim.

“Is there a story? Behind your sword, I mean.”

Brandishing the sword and swiping away the blood with a fragment of burned robe, he releases a heavy sigh. 

“The question on everyone’s mind, even mine.” He goes on to say, “The sword belonged to my mother. I never knew her but,” His eyes fall to the blade, his lips parted and wanting to go on. The history of this sword must be a great deal important and equally as private. 

“We should leave now in case any others decide to show up. If you know the way out, I will follow.” The change in subject is welcome considering how much she would like to leave this place. It had proven to be a dead end and if she never had to see a decapitated body again, it would be too soon. 

Vael leads the way, her light casting a white glow as they maneuver through the tunnels. The prisoner exits first, eager to inhale fresh air and experience the outside for the first time in Divines know how long. But not before extending a hand to pull Vael from the manhole with ease, pulling her up and into the night.

He isn’t the only one happy to be outside again. But she is more content on land than in the water from which he has bent down to splash over his face and lap from his palms with. All the while, Vael unravels the shaw from around her head. There is no need for it. No sun, no anonymity. 

“Listen,” He begins eventually, and she is listening while she tucks the fabric into her bag and pushes the loose hair from her face. 

From below in the racing riverbed where there is enough light to really take in her features, he does just that, falling quiet and losing track of his words. Finally, Vael sets her attention on him rather than focusing on the rebraiding of her hair. 

“I’m listening.” She prompts abruptly as the fear that he's caught off guard by the pointed tips of her delicate ears now that her head is unsheathed. 

“ _Right_.” He clears his throat and steps upward from the water. “You saved my life down there. I owe you. And I’m not a man who’s comfortable being in debt. I would be glad to fight alongside you until that debt is repaid...if you would have me.” 

She is taken aback by his offer, fingers coming to a halt within her locks. If she would have him...would she? Would she feel comfortable allowing him to pay off this debt he’s created and not one she endorses? It doesn't have to be that way. Yes, it could be beneficial for her and her safety if he accompanied her to Helgen. But she would like to think of his offer as a genuine kindness rather than a service. Surveying this idea, she comes to the conclusion that it couldn’t do any harm to have a friend. 

“I'd be glad to have you. I’m on my way to Helgen. Do you know it?” 

He nods. “Sure, it’s in Falkreath Hold. I was likely headed that way, anyhow.”

“Good. And one more thing.” 

“What’s that?” He wonders. 

“If you’re not Mikavier, then who are you?”

“Kaidan...my name is Kaidan. And you?” 

Wringing the water from the hem of her dress, she smiles. “Vael.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hellooooo. back again with chapter 4! i had a lot of fun writing this one tbh. it's interesting to get a handle of both vael and kaidan and then smoosh them together! i hope you guys like this chapter and please !!! comment or kudos or visit me over at https://the-bae-who-lived.tumblr.com OR ALL OF THE ABOVE !!!! 
> 
> thank you guys so much for reading <3

Helgen is no quick run up the path as she was told, Vael soon discovers. Alda had perhaps exaggerated how quickly she would be able to make the journey. With good intentions, she’s sure. Maybe to make this all seem much less intimidating. After finding a safe place far enough from the prison to rest for the remainder of the night, Kaidan unrolls the map given to Vael by Elynea before she left for Skyrim. It had been hers during her time here so many years ago before she finally settled at Tel Mithryn.

“You see, _here_ , “ holding the map down flat against the top of a rock, Kaidan shoves his finger the where the Windhelm resides. “ is Windhelm. And _here_ ,” that same finger follows the poorly drawn line to where the prison roughly resides, “is the prison. Took you a handful of hours to travel there, didn’t it?”

Vael agrees with a few nods of her head, comprehending where he's going with this. He goes on to to bring her attention to Helgen, which has a line drawn to it almost three and a half times longer than the first. “Don’t know who told you Helgen was closer than it really is, but they were wrong.”

_All with good intentions..._

“Not half a day, then.” She says, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Kaidan shrugs. 

“A full day, two at most depending on how far we can travel before we need to put our feet up.”

“Then we’ll start at sunrise. You should get some rest, yourself. I can keep watch.” Vael offers. 

She figures he must be exhausted and she thinks she can handle keeping her eyes peeled for a few hours while he restores himself. 

“No. No sleep for me just yet. It’s been too long since I’ve spent a night outside. Besides,” Kaidan pauses briefly to shuck off the mammoth of a bow strapped to his back, leaning it against the thick trunk of a tree, “I’m too pumped full of adrenalin to shut my eyes.”

Vael knows the feeling. Although, once her adrenaline had run its course, she passed out and not of her own free will, either. But she supposes escaping from prison is a different experience than almost being murdered by cultists.

“You never finished telling me what happened with the Thalmor.” 

“Aye, I guess I owe you the rest of that story.” Kaidan takes a moment to collect himself and his words. “I’d been trying to find a way to cross the border into Pale Pass. In the meantime, I was picking up bounty contracts to keep some coin in my pocket.” 

It seems that he’s gone into his thoughts briefly, reflecting. “Must’ve drawn too much attention to myself.” 

The wrong kind of attention, too. Inwardly, Vael grows slightly nervous. It may have shown by the way she adjusts herself where she sits. He must sense the change in her demeanor. Vael never was able to hide her true emotions, her eyes too expressive.

“Don’t worry. I only ever took contracts for people who _deserved_ what was coming to them. People who’ve killed, tortured and raped.” 

She wouldn’t disagree that those types people did, in fact, deserve punishment of that caliber. If death is what would keep them from committing more heinous crimes, then so be it. But you wouldn’t find Vael being the one to take their life. She could hardly bring herself to defend her _own_ life and the life of her dearest friend. True, she did what she had to do but it doesn’t negate from the fact that it was her first kill. 

“Where were you when they ambushed you?” Asks Vael.

“By the lake. I set up camp there.” 

“And they just attacked you? For what reason? You’re not the only person in Skyrim collecting bounties, I’m sure.” 

Kaidan shrugs his wide shoulders. “It seems the Thalmor don’t need much evidence to bring in a suspect.” Looking into the grass beneath his boots, he scoffs. “They took one look at that sword, decided I’d be a good target for interrogation and dragged me off to that abandoned prison. I couldn’t see for days. They kept a bag over my head and splashed water through it every now and then to keep me hydrated enough.”

Mortified, Vael now sees why the Thalmor’s life wasn’t spared. Burning of his leg was not a punishment worthy of his acts against Kaidan. The screams of which she was led into the prison are not a sound that would soon be forgotten. And maybe if she were in his position, she would have done the same because she had the incentive. They attacked him, abused him and eventually would have left him to die alone in that prison. All for a sword...

“Were you afraid?” 

It may have seemed a silly question to ask. Anyone in their right mind would be afraid if they were kidnapped and tortured. But Kaidan had an air about him that would suggest him to be less fearful than most. She saw it come forth when he initially thought she was a Thalmor and threatened to kill her despite being locked up and beaten to a pulp. 

A low chortle vibrates through his chest, to which Vael emulates to a degree out of embarrassment for her dumb query.

“An old friend of mine, Brynjar, used to say, “if you’re not a little afraid, you’re not understanding the situation”. Fear I can deal with easily enough...”

There is a _**but**_ coming, because is anyone really _fear **less**_?

“But there was a moment or two where I thought it might really be the end for me. The Thalmor would never have let me go, no matter what I told them because it wasn’t what they wanted to hear.” 

“You should be proud, then. Most wouldn’t have had the strength to endure what you did.” 

Kaidan has difficulty accepting the compliment. Not so deep down, he feels that this was a cross he had to bear. At least now he knows his sword is of greater meaning than he thought. Maybe he’s been looking in the wrong places for answers. But he won’t find more answers to those questions now. He is, however, curious about Vael who took the hint of his lack of response and opted to instead search through her bag.

“Why were _you_ in that prison?” He inquires, eyes narrow with suspicion. 

“Are you complaining?” The corners of her lips tick upward as she procures food from sack. 

Kaidan returns her simper as they meet eyes and shakes his head, hands lazily raising in defense. “Not at all.” 

“I was asked to go there. I was searching for a man called Mikaveir who’s been missing, I met his wife in Windhelm and she asked if I would come here to see if there was any proof of his whereabouts inside.”

“Bet she paid you a decent chunk of coin for that.” Kaidan imagines. The young woman bites down on her lip, making no comment. His expression shifts then as he leans forward. 

“She did pay you, _right_?” 

“No,” Kaidan stares in disbelief, Vael quickly makes to explain,”but she did provide me all she could before I came here. She’s very much pregnant and couldn’t make the trek herself. And she said that if I could find anything about him to take it to his family and that they might pay me for any information I can give.”

“That’s why we’re headed to Helgen? So you can _maybe_ get paid?” 

The letter in her pocket may be of importance. The only way she can find out is if she takes it directly to his family. They might know better than she can guess. And if they do know something, then they might pay her for her time and effort. 

“What’s it matter to you? This is my responsibility and you offered me your companionship.”

That seemed to shut him up. Even if the tight seal he placed upon his lips looks as though it could break at any given moment. Kaidan was used to being paid for his work unlike Vael who never had to do more than common chores to earn her keep. That was why he was so frustrated.

“Don’t come complaining to me when they don’t pay you.” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out into the moonlit woods. 

They’re on bad terms before they’ve even begun their trip. They’ve got to come to some sort of understanding. It’s when she looks to the food in her hands that Vael stands and closes the distance between them, hovering above him with an offer. He glances from hand to her face.

“No, _thanks_.” He sneers.

“Come on. I know you haven’t eaten anything decent in days.”

They wouldn’t give him a proper drink, only tossing him water through the cloth bag over his head and just enough to keep him alive. Kaidan gives in before the rumbling in his stomach has the chance to. 

“Maybe this will make you less grumpy.” 

“I’m not grumpy.” He shoots back with a glare, unwrapping the food. Vael gives him a pointed look as if his response alone proved her point. “You try being locked away and tortured and see just how _merry_ you are.” 

Vael puts on a mock guise of thought, pretending to actually consider putting herself in his shoes. “I can’t say that’s something I’m interested in trying.” She concedes. Across the way, tearing into the seasoned bread with sharp incisors, Kaidan rolls his eyes. 

ooo

Somehow, without four walls to protect her, Vael falls asleep. And when she wakes, it’s not with a start nor with any foreboding notions. It’s early. She can tell by the way the sun is just peaking over the mountains to send streaks of light through the trees. One of which she fell asleep against. Yawning softly, the young woman stretches her torso, sending her arms into the sky before letting them descend into the soft grass wet with morning dew. 

Across the way are Kadian’s things...but not Kaidan. Wiping sleep from her well rested eyes, it does little to help her locate him. He wouldn’t have just left without taking the belongings he insisted on sticking around in the prison to find. She would have found that quite hard to believe despite knowing the man for less than a day. He seemed the type to make good on his word as he said. 

Pushing herself from the ground and straightening the skirt of her dress, she turns at the sound of footsteps. He’s trudging up the hill, free of every bit of armor that aren’t his boots, back to the rest of his things. 

Now, in the light of the early morning, details of his face are better seen than before from the stubble growing on his strong jaw to the tattoo she thought was blood. It’s a peculiar piece but not too dissimilar than any warpaint she’s seen. Vael can’t help but wonder its meaning...or if it’s got one at all. Regardless, it’s an interesting feature. 

“Sorry. Went to take a piss.” Is how he greets her. It’s a brief explanation, yet somehow, it leaves little to the imagination. Vael winces as he ties back the upper half of his hair from his face.

“Good morning to you, too.” She mumbles, readying herself to start their day. 

Meanwhile, Kaidan steps back into his armor which only serves to make him look bulkier. How could he stand to clunk around like that? He must always be awaiting a battle, a chance to unsheath his blade on any who try him. Given his history, of which she’s only just learned, she supposes it gives him peace of mind to be ready for whatever may come. 

“Now’s as good a time to hit the path. The more daylight, the better.” 

They do just that, wasting no time in getting a start. It would be more than half a day before they reach Whiterun Hold. And even then, they would only be fractionally closer to Helgen. There isn’t any rush, is there? Of course she wants to know what information resides in Helgen pertaining to Mikaveir but it’s better to take their time than to burn themselves out before they arrive. It gives her a while to think of just what she’d like to say to his family once they do. Especially if they know it’s Alda who sent Vael. Hopefully they would at least consider hearing what she’s got to say before turning her down all together. 

ooo

For several hours the pair walk side by side with only the ambience of Skyrim’s nature playing its song for them. She doesn’t mind the quiet as it doesn’t feel terribly awkward, like they should be making small talk. Would he be even the slightest bit interested in talking weather or of how he adores the vibrant foliage? The thought leaves Vael to grin softly to herself, hoping his peripheral vision isn’t a strong suit. Otherwise, he’d ask and she’d have to explain that she was thinking of him and his stance on nature of all things. 

One new thing she does notice about him is that he’s far less talkative than she originally thought. Last night his tongue was sharp and he opened up enough to tell her what had happened to him. Maybe it was because she was the first person he’d spoken to in days that wasn’t there to bring him harm. But there was still a matter of his sword. He trailed off, leaving his sentence unfinished. Vael looks to his back where the sword rests in its scabbard. If the Thalmor are interested, it’s for a good reason. One that they apparently hadn’t disclosed to Kaidan. Feasibly for concern that he would do exactly what he did and escape from their grasp with it. 

“What are you staring at?” Asks Kaidan suddenly. 

“The water.” Vael supplies a quick white lie, nodding toward the gently coursing river below. He too takes a look, but not before squinting his eyes in suspicion. 

He’s protective of it, that much is certain.

After making a brisk stop of water, the two continue on for another stint of walking in quietude until they round the mountainside. There, they find two towers up the way, connecting as a bridge over the widening river. That familiar sound of rushing water grows louder with each step they take. There must be a waterfall nearby. Which would make sense considering they traveled on an incline for some time. 

“ _Wait_.” Kaidan urges in a muttered voice, hand gripping Vael’s shoulder and in turn, enveloping it. She halts her footsteps upon his order, looking to him only to find that he’s looking ahead. The figure of a woman stands at the tower entrance, watching them with a hand placed to her hip with fingers doubtlessly wrapped around a weapon should they come any closer. 

But the waters below are dangerous. There isn’t any other way but forward. Kaidan knows this and whispers, “Keep your head down and stay close. Try to keep calm.” 

She heeds his words, eyes falling down to her boots as he ushers them both forward, hand falling from her shoulder and brushing against his own. That must be the standard of their proximity until he says otherwise. 

“Who are they?” 

“Bandits, more likely than not.” 

Uneasy, she’s expecting some sort of confrontation from the woman the nearer they become. Minding their business may be the best way to avoid it all together. But then, Vael makes the mistake of breaking her eye contact with the ground, a natural instinct to peek.

She makes direct eye contact with the woman dressed in furs for a split second to see that she herself is starting toward them. An altercation was inevitable from the moment she laid sight on them.

“Hold it.” Dominance laces her tone of voice. “This here’s a toll road, see? You’re gonna have to hand over say...two hundred gold if you want to use our road.” 

_Our?_ Oh, yes. She’s referring to the men at the top of the tower closest with their bows drawn and arrows prepped to kill should she and Kaidan disregard the authority the woman attempts to hold over them. Vael nudges Kaidan as discreetly as she can to warn him that they are targets. 

“Built this road yourself, did you?” Kaidan derides after returning his attention to eye level from scoping out the threats above. The bandit finds his mocking about as funny as a _toothache_. 

“Hand over the coin and I won’t have my men imaple you.” The ultimatum weighs heavy in the moment. It’s two against three. Well, _one and a half_ against three. Vael isn’t the greatest of defenders in the land.

“We don’t want trouble. We only want to get to where we’re going.” Piping up, the scrutiny of the woman is now placed upon Vael, sizing her up.

“And we just want our gold. So hand. It. Over... _mutt_.” Each word of the demand is punctuated and topped off with an insult. However, not at all unique as she’s heard it before...more times than she’d like to have. 

“Don’t speak to her like that---” Kaidan interrupts in a snarl. And it’s Vael who restrains him with a gentle hand to his armored chest, facade as calm as Kaidan had asked of her. 

“Alright. You can call off your men. You want coin in exchange for our passing. Then here,” 

“What are---” Vael hushes Kaidan with no more than a look.

The bandit woman surveys Vael dubiously. The brunette musters a chuckle. “Truly. I’ll give you what you ask for.”

Another moment of thought and then she complies, glancing up at the archers ready to fire and signals to them that the toll will be paid. They lower their bows and step back from the edge until they’re now longer in sight.

“Vael---” 

“Kaidan, it’s fine. I’m paying the toll.” Vael assures him as she shucks her knapsack to the ground, kneeling next to it. 

Above her is Kaidan who watches with great confusion. He knows damn well she doesn’t have two hundred septims...but maybe she’s got a _plan_. Divines, he hopes so. But in case they need a backup, while the looter is distracted by visions of coin that she will soon receive and her men no longer on watch, Kaidan slowly reaches back for his nodachi, gloved fingers gripping the hilt. 

On the ground with her hands rummaging through the knapsack not for septims, but time, Vael maintains her composure as she thinks up a plan of action. She could crack a potion bottle and threaten her with the jagged glass or or even save herself a potion and konk the outlaw over the head. Vael can only buy so much time before thinking turns to overthinking and does more damage than good.

Plan of action be damned. 

Vael lunges upward, shoving the woman in her chest and then swiftly sending her bet elbow into wherever it will make contact with. It just so happens she catches her throat, yet another source from which she depends. 

Where the bandit once sought to steal, she ends up having the air _stolen_ right from within her windpipes.

It’s then that Kaidan, shocked by the abrupt attack, reaches for his bow like it’s second nature, prepared to take down the men atop the tower when they notice that their leader has been bested and left to lay on the road from which she called her own. 

They come rushing to look over at their struggling cohort and before they can register what’s going on, Kaidan’s arrows impale them like they had threatened to do to to himself and Vael. 

“Come on, come on, come on!” Vael shouts as she haphazardly gathers up the bag in her arms and then grasping at him to come along.

Kaidan stows his bow, sparing a life. Without her crew, it’s most likely that she won’t come seeking revenge. And if she does, they’ll be long gone.

They run west toward the setting sun until they know that when they turn around, the towers will be out of sight. Kaidan’s armor clanks with each bound he takes. Vael, not as fit as she thought, gasps for air as her stamina runs low. Kaidan takes note of that and slows himself down, chest heaving but not nearly as heavily as Vael’s.

After a few moments of catching their breath, Vael bursts into a fit of laughter, only making it marginally harder to breathe. Kaidan watches her, a slow smile spreading across his face as he too begins to laugh. 

“I can’t believe I just elbowed a bandit in the throat.” Wheezing, she pauses to lift her arms into the air, opening her chest and wordlessly begging for air to enter her lungs. Oppositely, Kaidan crouches, his hair falling loose from its hold. 

“I can’t believe you tricked her. You know, for a second there,” He swallows thickly, “I didn’t know what to expect. But what you did was...it was _bloody brilliant_.”

Kaidan’s kudos perpetuates the grin on her lips. Finally, he returns to his full height, turning to look out of the flat plains that offer a vast view of Whiterun Hold...and Whiterun itself. 

“Is that...”

“The city of Whiterun? Yes.” He answers, drifting farther into the tall grass off of the road. 

Unknowingly, she trails beside him, taking in the sight to behold that is Whiterun. It looks to be so large and yet, so small simultaneously. Walls surround it, but don’t swallow the buildings whole like Windhelm’s walls do. And at its highest point, a castle.

With parted lips does she gaze, easing herself to sit down and enjoy the scenery. Kaidan must have the same idea as he’s bending to sit next to her, arm resting over a bent knee. 

“It’s farther away than it looks.” He remarks. Vael’s brows raise as she takes in that observation.

“The city must be huge, then.” 

“I’d imagine so, yes. I’ve never been. But I hear it’s one of Skyrim’s crowning jewels. Next to Solitude, that is.” 

“With a castle like that, I can see why.” 

Kaidan shrugs. “All the capitals of Skyrim have castles like this. It’s nothing special.” 

Vael sends him a look, a dark thick brow quirked. “Have you lived in many castles then to make that judgment, Kaidan?” 

He smirks, staring off before him. “ _No_.” He pauses, his brief happiness exchanged for bitterness. “I just mean to say that these jarls live inside of these castles with maybe... _ten_ others. It’s too much space, if you ask me. There are people who don’t have a home at all and they’ve got the nerve to sit on their thrones and not do a damned thing about it.” 

The man makes a fair enough point. And it seems he’s had time to mull it over to raise an argument. But certainly, if there are many homeless people here in Skyrim, he isn’t the only one. She thinks back to only days ago when she first arrived in Skyrim and how people huddled around fires burning outside in Windhelm because it was their own makeshift hearth. Meanwhile, Ulfric had a palace not nearly as full as it could be just waiting for him to come home and warm the throne. 

“The infrastructure of the city is shit, too.” He adds.. 

“That’s...oddly specific. Go on...” Encourages Vael, who really does want to understand what he means. 

“Notice how you can see the roofs of the homes and businesses?" She had noticed. “The walls are too short. I’ll bet I could scale it, easily. And the land...look how flat it is. It makes the layout all but pointless!” 

“ _Hmm_...that does make sense.” 

Only moments prior did she actually like that feature about the city. But Kaidan raises yet another valid point. Could this city alone withhold an attack? 

“They’d better hope the Stormcloaks and the Imperial soldiers are taught to climb rocks.” It sounds like Vael is trying to make a joke. But really, if the defenses of the walls alone aren’t enough, they’ve got a problem if an opposing force comes knocking.

“Who knows what to expect, anymore. All I know is that we’ve had a long day. I think we deserve to take an early night.” 

Vael couldn’t agree more. And so, after collecting what resources they can given that they aren't close to the woods, they make a small fire of twig and stone and settle into the grass, Vael resting her head on her bag and her wrap draped over her upper body to shield her from the nighttime breeze. She shuts her eyes, listening the the crickets chirping. It felt so lovely now not to have to walk. It might be considered a sin not to bask it a short while longer before actually trying to get some sleep.

To her right is Kaidan who she finds, when she pokes open a single golden optic, leaning back on his elbow. Even almost an hour after the conversation and he’s still leering at the city.

“Still angry about the city’s layout?” 

He doesn’t chuckle or give her a _yes_ or _no_ answer. She opens her eyes.

“Have you been called a mutt before?” 

The question catches her off guard, causing her avert her gaze. 

“I’m sorry---I just...you handled yourself so well. Didn’t know if you were _used_ to it or something.”

“I’ve been called loads of things. _Mutt_ is the least insulting.” She answers after a moment. Kaidan doesn’t need better lighting to see that Vael would rather not talk about it.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you’re no mutt.”

Was that supposed to raise her confidence?

“ _Thanks_.” She grumbles, flipping to her opposite side and facing away from him. 

He sighs, full well knowing by her reaction that he’s only added insult to injury. “That was supposed to be a compliment, you know.” 

“And I said _thank you_.” 

“Actually, you said _thanks_ \---” The man quips.

“I revoke my _thanks_ , then.” 

Kaidan releases a startling guffaw. “You can’t revoke a _thanks_. I’ve already heard it.”

Vael opts not to dignify his teasing with a reply. She does, however, want to wipe the smile off of his face. Vael can’t see it, but she can practically feel that it’s there. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy friends!!! here is chapter 5 for you. like i said on my tumblr ( https://the-bae-who-lived.tumblr.com which you should totally go check out ), i;ll be leaving for the airport in...literally 6 hours. this might be the last chapter for a few days but if i find the time to work on a new one, i most certainly will!!!!!! 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy this one. the beginning half was fun to write...the last half...not so much but you'll see why.
> 
> please consider leaving me comments or kudos or both! and as always, thank you guys for reading <3

The river is spry this morning, water spitting from the jutting rocks and fish leaping forth from beneath to spring free of predators looking to make them their breakfast. Vael sees herself to a makeshift bath not long after waking, sneaking off while Kaidan sleeps to the most discreet area she can find. Which is quite difficult after he had brought to her attention the evening before how flat the land is. 

The bridge, she thinks, will be suitable enough to clean herself up a bit. But once the cold water meets her skin in the initial splash to her face, she’s not particularly keen on wetting much more of her body for comfort's sake. For hygienic sake, however...She gasps, whimpering softly from discomfort. But the dirt and grime she collected over the course of the last day and a half aren’t welcome any longer. Especially if they make it to Helgen this evening to meet with Mikaveir’s family. 

When she returns to their campsite, the small fire they’d built still burns. However, on its last leg. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looks off into the plains. Kaidan is several feet away, bow in hand as he shoots arrows low into the grass, moving to retrieve whatever it is he caught himself. 

“Don’t know about you,” he begins, calling from not so far off, “but I need something to eat with a bit more substance than _bread_.” 

It’s a hare he’s captured, male and therefore, decently sized. Kaidan shows off his kill, raising it up for both he and Vael to admire. Except, he makes a face and not one of admiration. 

“It’s no deer, but...there aren’t as many of them out here. It’s too open.” 

Kaidan begins to make quick work of the hare’s fur. Vael remains quiet as the sight is not a pretty one. Still, she doesn’t take her eyes off of him. He must sense that.

“Why are you so quiet this morning? Still mad about last night?”

“I wasn’t mad.” She dispels a little too speedily. 

Kaidan doesn’t seem to believe her as his expression is saying _sure you weren’t_.

“I’ve just never seen an animal skinned.” 

“Never had to catch your own food before?” 

Vael shakes her head in response. 

“I wouldn’t catch a thing with one of those if my life depended on it.” She refers to his bow, an challengingly large piece that he's seemed to master. 

“Aye, I thought as much.” 

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” 

Only _she_ 's allowed to snub her abilities or lack thereof.

“I didn’t mean it like _that_. _Divines_ , woman---” Kaidan suspires, disbelieving of his luck with his own words yet again. “You’re a _magic_ user.”

Whether he intended for his distaste of magic to show or not, Vael can’t say. But what he doesn’t know is that she’s as gifted in magic as he is a small man; _**not in the slightest.**_

Well, that would go to discredit all Talvas had taught her. Maybe she is better than she thinks. But she doesn’t trust herself enough to rely solely on it. Not yet, at least. 

“I know how to create light and start fires. I wouldn’t call myself a magic _user_ , per say.”

“Then what would you call yourself, eh?” He counters, his meal half skinned, half furry, and all dead as he looks expectantly at her. 

Vael opens her mouth to speak, her answer coming forth slowly as it still processes in her mind. “A magic _dabbler_...better yet, a Jack of _some_ trades.”

That brings him to a laugh, finishing off the last of his hare. “Alright then, _Jack of some trades_. Give that fire a little more life for me.” 

Vael tends to their dying fire with a spurt of flames, its crackling growing as she tosses a few more flammable contents inside. 

“You should at least know the basics of how to wield a sword. Maybe even shoot a decent arrow. My bow might be too big for you, but I’ll teach you if you want.” Offers Kaidan who crouches to cook the meat of his catch. 

Vael appreciates the gesture, thinking that perhaps it would be a good idea to learn more to defend herself. Kaidan would only be there so long as his debt to her remains unpaid. Eventually, she would have to fend entirely for herself. She doesn’t know if she could handle another incident like what had happened with the cultists and her flailing like a freshly hatched baby bird without a clue. She may not be so lucky next time. 

“I would like that. I could do to learn better self defense, that’s for sure.” Vael agrees, taking a seat beside him to watch the meat brown. 

“Defending yourself with a weapon is better than magic...or elbowing someone in the throat.” Kaidan eyes her just enough to see her reaction.

“You laugh but it worked!”

“Aye,” He agrees, “It did.”

“Would you say you have a skill you’re best at?” She wonders. Obviously, he’s capable. She’s seen that much herself. And he knows how to survive off the land.

Kaidan falls back into the grass again, lifting the skewered hare to his mouth to take a bite while pondering. 

“I can move well in heavy armor. I feel safer in steel than leather.” _Ah_ , that makes perfect sense as to why he insisted on wearing it. “And I can take a beating...but you know that.” 

Yes, she does. 

“Don’t know if you’d consider that a skill, though.” Kaidan second guesses his answer. 

“I suppose anything could be a skill, really.” Vael surmises with a shrug.

“I guess.” He swiftly makes to add, mouth full, “Only downside of heavy armor is that it’s loud. I’m no good at sneaking around stealthy with it on.”

Vael, by the build of him alone, has good reason to believe he can’t be stealthy _without_ the armor, either. But she digresses.

“You won’t be teaching me how to pickpocket then, I assume.” 

“You’re doing that woman from Windhelm a pretty heft favor with no guaranteed pay. You don’t strike me as the type to pickpocket.”

He’s completely right. Even if she were fooling, Vael doesn’t have it in her to steal. 

“And if I were?” 

“I’m in no place to pass judgment, lass.” He replies cryptically. 

After a moment of quiet between them, Kaidan offers for her to take a bite of the animal to which Vael passes on with a small wave of her hand. It’s too early for her to eat yet and he doesn’t seem to mind eating it to himself, anyway. 

ooo

Just around midday is when they finally gather themselves for more travel. The sun is at its hottest, shining brightly down upon them and on Whiterun. Far away as it may be, the flat lands only capitalize on its greatness. Perhaps one day, she’ll know what it’s like beyond those walls. But before that, she must reach Helgen. 

And before that, Riverwood. 

Around a winding road heavy with woods and rapid waters is a village nestled in a nook of the mountains surrounding, quaint and cozy. It consists of a straightforward strip of homes and businesses all similar in design but special in their own way and offering a multitude of different services. They pass first the Sleeping Giant Inn where a large dog rests his head over the fence, tail wagging as Vael and Kaidan pass. She doesn’t withhold from herself the opportunity to give him a pat and a caress of his scraggly haired face, letting him know that he is a _good boy_. 

“We should stop here on our way back and see about getting you your own sword.” Kaidan nods toward the Blacksmith. “You know,” He smirks, “if you get paid, that is.”

Vael keeps her eyes locked forward as they pass through the opposite end of the village. “You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not until you’ve got coin to show for it.”

“You’re starting to sound like the bandit.”

They continue on like that for some time, sharing quick banter every so often. Vael is thankful he’s more talkative today than yesterday because she doesn’t think she could stand to be without conversation for so long again. She and Talvas could talk each others’ ears off but when one was too busy to engage, the other would go mad with boredom. She thinks of him now and how he’s faring. Neloth surely won’t give him the time of day unless it’s for a lesson or favor. Maybe he and Elynea are reminiscing of Vael. She hopes they are thinking of her like she does of them, hardly able stop them from popping into her own head in times of introspection. Which, as of late, are often.

Along the way, they had stopped at a peculiar display of stones not too dissimilar from the All-Maker stones in Solstheim. Not linked to a cult, she's far more interested and even willing to take a closer look. Each of them have their own carving; a mage, a thief, and a warrior. Kaidan explains their existence from what he knows. By activating the stone of your choosing, you are bringing upon yourself the blessing it holds whether it is the acute mind of a mage, the covertness of a thief, or the courage of a warrior.

Kaidan had already come by them, having learned them through his travels in the hold. It’s Vael who is struggling to choose. Though, it only marginally makes her decision easier once she discards the thief stone. Talvas, without question, would choose the mage. Vael is, for whatever reason, called to the warrior. Perhaps it’s a correlative thought to she and Kaidan’s earlier exchange of training and skill. But Kaidan makes no effort to sway her choice, only waiting patiently for her to make it in her own time.

She opts for the warrior, as it may help her when time comes to take hold of a sword.

“Look there.” Kaidan motions his pointed finger ahead where the river widens into a lake. “My old camp was set up just along the shore.” 

He isn’t sure whether or not they Thalmor had gone back to investigate further, looking for traces of him they might have missed during his capture. But he really doesn’t care to find out, either. Which is why he declines when Vael asks if he would like to visit to see if he could find anymore of his belongings. Kaidan has everything he needs and doesn’t notice what’s no longer with him.

Helgen isn’t too far off now that they’ve mastered the majority of the way. Kaidan tells her of what’s there to expect once they arrive. It’s mostly residential which may or may not make it more difficult to find Mikavier’s family. It’ll take longer, that’s for certain. Unless they happen to stumble upon them on the first try. 

She knows exactly what she’s going to say to them now that she’s had plenty of time to mull it over. Vael is simply going to explain why she’s there in earnest, full well knowing there might be resistance on their end when it comes to Alda. But if they really do love their son as much as she claims, they will overlook that. The note may be a leading clue for them, too if they recognize the script or sayings. Even if it wasn’t written for anyone but Alda. 

The pair come to a fork in the road, another sign to guide them with arrows pointing in the directions of all notable destinations. They stop to make sure they don’t make a wrong turn, making out what the carvings spell. 

“It’s this way---” 

Vael is cut off by a pronounced rumbling from off in the distance. She looks to Kaidan to confirm that he heard it too. He did, judging by the way concern takes over his face. Neither of them speak for many moments and despite being outside, an eerie stillness fills the air. The birds have stopped chirping and the trees stopped rustling. Vael may have even stopped breathing for sake of not missing a single sound. 

**_CRACK!_ **

Like thunder following the devastation of lighting striking, the noise echos from the sky but nothing can be seen as the mountains are too high, too concealing. But the sky hasn’t turned dark nor has rain begun to fall. This is no storm. 

“Come on! We’ve got to get out of the open!” Kaidan reaches for Vael’s arm, ushering her to follow him as they set off in a sprint toward Helgen to seek refuge.

“What was that?!” Terror consumes her voice. Kaidan, stoic for lack of a better word, merely keeps his hues peeled toward the sky from which the sound originated. 

“Can't say...but it’s not good.”

It isn’t over. Neither of them thought it would be the end. But it’s the screaming that frightens them the most. It’s not far, but not ten paces away, either. They only know that the closer they are to Helgen, the louder is seems to get. Panicked, they stand off the road, hidden only by shrubbery and tall trees. 

“We can’t just stand here.” Vael speaks up. “We have to see what’s going on!”

“See what’s going on?!” Kaidan spits in return. “I’m always game for a fight but that sounds like a bloody massacre!”

“So we’ll stand here idly by until they’re all killed off and the screaming stops to go and help. What a _wonderful_ plan you've---” 

A roar tears through the atmosphere, piercing their ears. And then...they finally lay eyes on the bringer of such a noise. 

Above, a winged beast black as night. It hovers, spewing hellfire from its mouth like the Red Mountain of Vvanderfell erupted molten lava over its land, wreaking havoc and devastation, destroying history and putting lives to a mortifying end. Except, this one _flies_.

They don’t move, struck with a fear so paralyzing that they may as well have forgotten how to all together. Vael, for a second, has a fleeting thought that this is just a nightmare. For she’s found in night terrors that she cannot scream nor can she move. Just like she can't now. 

Soon, that thought is torn away by Kaidan who is once again pulling her to the ground with him to better shield themselves from the monster’s view as it flaps its extensive wings, flying higher than the mountaintops and east through Skyrim’s blue skies, it's screech reverbing. 

All at once, the sight is unorthodox, majestic and terrifying. 

Kaidan says nothing when he pulls the both of them from the dirt, proving that he’s more coherent than she. He puts aside his earlier stance on continuing to the village, knowing that something horrible had happened and that the threat is now gone, having flown off to Divines know _where_ to do Divines know _what_.

They can see the destruction before they even pass through the gates, fires still blazing, smoke clouding much of the area, homes left in ruins and bodies...Vael wants to vomit at the smells and cry for the deaths. 

They amble along, Vael at a lesser pace than Kaidan. She wanted to help and now, there is nothing left _to_ help. What’s left is only a memory of a place that was home earlier that very same day. Her heart hurts, chest tight as she circles around, at every angle more pain. Her arms hang limp at her sides, lips tugging downward at the corners in a deep glower.

Kaidan had walked along further to do his own inspecting and soon came to the conclusion that the first matter of business here would be finding signs of life. He places his hands on his hips as he heads back for Vael.

“We should look for survivors. That’d be the best place to start. I don’t want you going off on your own, though. So stick by my side and we’ll---” 

It’s when he focuses in on her instead of their ruined surroundings that he notices she looks as if she’s going to burst into tears. Taken aback, Kaidain nears her with caution, unsure of how to handle this. He does only what his instincts tell him. 

“Vael... _oi_...look here,” The may be the softest he’s spoken in a long time. If ever. 

Slowly but surely, the young woman faces him, a crease between her brows and tears welling within her flaxen orbs. He’s looking into the face of a _woman_ who is looking into the face of _tragedy_ for what may be the first time. At least of this scale. He can’t say the same for himself as he’s faced mortality plenty of times. And each time, his tolerance for death and destruction builds.

He’s dealing with something now that he doesn’t know how to deal with. It’s be all too easy for him to give her a firm pat on the shoulder and tell her it’d be alright but...after what they’ve seen...after what’s happened...it’s not alright. And he’d be doing everyone person, dead or alive, in this wrecked town, including Vael and himself, a dishonor to say that it was _alright_.

“We’re going to help who we can but we’ve got to find them first, lass.” He says softly, taking a step toward her. Vael swallows, giving him a stiff nod before following in his lead. Before them is a building that seems to have had the least damage done to it. It makes little sense why as everything else around it has crumbled. But if one building is standing tall, there is some hope. 

Not for finding Mikavier’s family. That mission is all but forgotten among the chaos. 

“What do you think this building is for?” A flag is waving with the wind, tattered and burned, but waving proudly. 

“It’s a keep. An Imperial one. And by the size of it, it’s probably for prisoners and soldiers. ” Kaidan seems to examine it, determining if it’s safe to go inside or if somewhere, the architecture is threatening to buckle. 

“ _Help---_ ”

Vael turns to quickly she nearly snaps her neck in the process. Her senses of vision and hearing are on edge in search of the weak call for help. Kaidan too is searching about, picking up what she cannot and her the same,

“ _H-help---_ ” Another call but it alone isn’t strong enough to give a location. 

It’s the rough coughing that leads them right to the victim who lay in a pile of rubble against the wall of which he might have tried to safeguard himself. The wall remains standing...yet, he is burned beyond the recognition of a man. Not even his eyes Uncaring of how disturbing the sight is, Vael drops to her knees beside the man, roughly ripping open her bag to search for a healing potion. It may not be powerful enough to a damn thing, but she’s got to _try_.

“P-please, please l-listen...” His voice is so hoarse a whisper that she can hardly tell what he’s saying.

“I will listen, sir, but let me help you first---” She continues, trembling hands faltering.

“N-no.”

It’s a firmer tone to which Vael pauses entirely. 

“I-I will die. B-but you must warn---must warn the others.” 

“What will we tell them?” 

Both she and Kaidan know what they saw. It’s only a matter of admitting it to themselves. 

The man breathes shallowly, his chest stuttering from broken ribs and ash in his lungs. Vael can hardly be at his side watching him die. She can’t begin to fathom his pain. Still, she waits with bated breath for him to validate the occurrence here.

“ _Dragon_.” 

His last word is also his killer. 

Vael hovers over him, searching his face for any sign of life. But he goes for too long without a single movement but it never comes. The brunette falls back, shoulders slumped and palms that once grasped onto potion bottles thinking they could save a dying man rest in her lap. 

Kaidan can’t, nor will he, allow her to sit there and mourn a man she doesn’t know and not for any other reason than it’d be cruel to let her. Placing a hand in the crook of her elbow, Kaidan coaxes Vael to stand. And once he’s sure she’s steady, he reaches for her bag, tossing it over his shoulder. 

No matter how much earlier they arrived at Helgen, nothing could have prevented a dragon attack. They wouldn’t have been able to shield every building or keep them from tumbling down. They wouldn’t have been able to defeat it the dragon. And the saddest to know is that they wouldn’t have been able to save every man, woman and child. If they had arrived earlier, they may have met the same fates. 

Vael begins to come to when Kaidan begins to steer her away from here. It wasn’t an environment either of them should be in. Not surrounding themselves with the dead or inhaling smoke that would only blacken their insides. They were told what they had to do. And back in Riverwood is where they would begin to spread the word.

“This is how we help now, Vael.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovelies! i'm back from vacation with the 6th chapter. i actually wrote a large chunk of this while in my hotel room one of the days when i was taking a break. it's a lot of plot progression for vael's storyline but there is a bit of personal progression for her and kai toward the end that i hope you guys enjoy! i can't wait to hear from everyone. make sure you sound off in the comments or come chat with me over at https://the-bae-who-lived.tumblr.com <3 
> 
> thank y'all for reading!!!!

The return to Riverwood practically treks itself. It’s funny how quickly one can make something happen when so much is on the line. Maybe that’s why Alda underestimated the trip to Helgen because finding her husband is most imperative even though she herself could not make the journey. As if warning everyone they could of the tragedy there weren’t already difficult, telling Alda of what had happened would be just as much so. Vael is in her head and emotions, unable to focus on what is instead of what was. Kaidan is of his senses, compensating for what she’s lacking in the moment despite her wanting nothing more than to warn the townspeople as quickly as they can. If he weren't there to drag her along, Vael may have broken down.

But she doesn't.

After he had managed to draw her from the transfixed state of grief, they began to jog, both in agreement that this information of detrimental degrees could not afford a slow delivery. Each step that brings them closer also brings her anxiety that they will be too late, that the dragon had a change of plan and decided to swing back around and wipe out yet another village and leave Kadian and Vael to run again and again until their warning is no longer needed because the dragon has made it very much apparent that it's here and built for destruction.

Luckily, that isn’t the case at all and just a bout of fear attempting to make a home in Vael's mind.

Riverwood, as serene in the beginnings of the evening as it had been during the height of the day, remains untouched by danger and gently lit not by fire, but by the reddish hues of a setting sun. They are almost confused, but greatly relieved, that there is no imminent threat present.

However, as they pass through the threshold of the rampart, they soon come to find that the dragon had not gone unnoticed by one villager at the very least.

“A dragon! I saw a dragon!” The well aged voice of a woman proclaims in a shout. She follows after a younger man who looks to be her son, imploring him to believe his poor old mother. 

“It was as big as the mountain, and black as night!” Continues the elder, voice hoarse. 

“Dragons, now, is it mother?” Her son dismisses her with little more than a scoff, painting her as a silly wretch who is losing her wits to old age.

“You!” Vael comes to a quick halt as the woman hobbles toward her, reaching to hold her arms, to keep her from ignoring her words as her daughter was. “You have seen it too, haven’t you? It flew right over the barrow!”

Their running and Vael's flushed cheeks may have tipped the woman off, causing her to believe that they had reason to run in the first place. She isn’t wrong.

Kaidan steps in to peel the woman from Vael and reliving her of another stressor. But he isn’t cold toward her, doesn’t push her away. Instead, he is gentle.

“You’re right. We did see the Dragon, too. “ Confirmation of the dragon does not pale her wrinkling skin as it would have done to any sane person. Instead, her mouth rounds, amazed as she ogles Kaidan. And perhaps for more reasons than affirmation of the beast.

“You’d best go inside to keep safe, alright?” He suggests with a light hand upon her boney shoulder, ushering her to the front porch from which she came and showing attentiveness that her own son did not. Vael takes note of his kindness, the gesture bringing her something of temporary peace just as the old woman received.

Turning back to face Vael, she waits to make eye contact to ask for their next move. But Kaidan sets his eyes on what resides behind her. Confused but curious, she looks over her shoulder to find the backsmith from earlier who is concentrating on his work.

“He may be the most reliable person to tell, don’t you think?” Kaidan whispers to her, not taking his eyes off of the man in question.

“He’s surely got plenty of weapons. Maybe he’d lend some out to the villagers so they can have some kind of protection.” Vael replies, watching as he sharpens a large blade on the grindstone.

“Aye, that’s what I’m thinking.” Gravely, he nods before heading passed her toward the man. Vael makes to follow, ending up on the wooden stairs of the extended porch.

The bearded man glances at them beneath thick brows before taking the blade from the stone to place it on the wooden table pressed against his home. He dusts his gloved hands off on his black apron before starting toward them.

“What can I do you both for?”

“We’ve just come from Helgen. There’s been an attack there. The village is—-“

“The old bat was telling the truth...”

“She is. Telling the truth, I mean.” Vael chimes in defense of the woman. “We were on our way there not two hours ago when we saw the dragon and heard the people—-“

Vael is quick to cut her own self off, swallowing back words and emotion that stands at the forefront, waiting to burst forward. At her side, Kaidan steps up. Without words, she thanks him.

“When we got there, the place was left burning and crumbling to the ground. ”

The man looks distraught, unable to fathom the truth. But it is just that; TRUTH. No matter how absurd or frightening it is. 

He breaks from his trance to look at what goes on around him. It's a calm and very much a normal evening. The blacksmith runs a hand over his thick beard, wrapping his head around the situation and thinking of how to proceed. Kaidan must notice this process too, as he doesn’t make to rush the man despite the severity of what’s going on and what may happen.

“Come quickly. We will talk more inside.” They follow without question into the man’s home where a woman waits at the hearth, stirring with a wooden spoon a pot of what smells to be stew. Vaels mouth waters unconsciously but there are greater matters at hand than her own hunger. 

“Sigrid, we have company.” The man announces.

The blonde turns, eyeing the strange pair in her home before looking to her husband. All the while, their daughter races up from the staircase only to stop at the very top to peer through the railings at Kaidan and Vael. Vael offers the girl a small wave of her fingers and the slightest of smiles, letting her know that they are no threat but friends coming to warn them of a greater one. 

“My name is Alvor. This is my wife, Sigrid.”

Sigrid lifts the apron resting on the skirt of her dress to clean off her hands from cooking before moving to shake Vael’s. It’s then that the small girl proceeds from her spot at the stairs to move by them and sit on the bed. 

“My name is Vael. It's nice to meet you.”

“Kaidan.” Short and sweet, Kaidan simply bows his head as a greeting. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Please, come sit---” As she makes to usher the pair toward their table, Alvor brings her to a stop.

“They are not here for supper, Sigrid.” He says darkly. “There has been an attack at Helgen.”

“An attack? What kind of attack? The Stormcloaks?” 

The clash between the Stormcloaks and Imperials was Skyrim’s most prevalent issue but the attack, as far as either Vael or Kaidan are aware, had anything to do with the opposing sides.

“It was a dragon attack.” Says Vael in something short of a whisper, cautious of both the woman’s possible reaction, and of her daughter’s. 

A well worked hand finds its way to the wife’s mouth in attempt to shield her shock. The gesture only adds to it. She looks between her husband and the newcomers for assurance of which can be found merely by looking into their eyes. Hells, by looking in Vael’s alone as they hold such a display of fear and sadness from what she’s just witnessed. 

“Dorthe, my love, why don’t you head downstairs to play before we eat.” 

“But mama! I want to hear about the dragon!” The little girl, enchanted by the mythical beast’s mention, doesn’t get up from her spot until her mother hurries over to shoo her downstairs herself. 

Vael wonders if her mother would have done the same thing. Surely she would have. As Vael has been protected almost her whole life from the horrors of Nirn. Her mother sought her safety always. But this may just be the harsh reality of things she’s been sheltered from finally setting in. Maybe this little girl deserves more time to be innocent and unaware. There is no use in worrying her, anyway. 

“You’re sure about this attack?” Sigrid questions in a hushed tone.

“Wish we weren’t but we saw the dragon ourselves. And we saw the mess it made at Helgen not long after...it’s all but ruins.” Attests Kaidan. 

“We don’t have the defenses necessary to protect the village ourselves. We must call for Jarl Balgruuf’s aid in Whiterun. If he’s made aware, he will send help.” Alvor’s idea is a solid one. No just and good ruler would leave their people to fend for themselves.

Kaidan may not approve of Whiterun’s architectural defense capabilities himself, but its soldiers coming to Riverwood could do no harm here where safety is concerned.

“There is only one thing...” Alvor continues. “I cannot make the journey myself. I will stay here to warn the rest of Riverwood. They will sooner trust me than a pair of travelers. And I mean no disrespect.” 

Again, his logic gives no reason for question. The others could just see Vael and Kaidan as two passerbys looking to stir up trouble along with the village crazy screaming up and down the street of dragons. They could trust their blacksmith as a reputable business owner and human.

Alvor rounds the table to stand at his trembling wife’s side, a strong arm around her shoulder. Instantly, she leans into him for comfort and protection.

“I won’t leave my family here to fend for themselves, either. But we will give you what you need to make the trip. Food, supplies. We will offer what we can. Including my horse, Merry. ” 

Vael looks to Kaidan and he to her before they decide that they will take on yet another task of spreading the word. They have no places to be. Not anymore, at least.

“Alright.” Kaidan agrees. “We’ll take good care of her until we can bring her back.”

“Aye, you’d better.”

Vael, not a day earlier, decided she would one day visit Whiterun. That day is coming much earlier than she could have ever anticipated. She only wishes that her visit weren't on such egregious terms.

A few moments later, after Sigrid prepares them a sack full of supplies including, but not limited to, carrots and apples for Merry (or Kaidan and Vael), Alvor sees them to the side of his home where the horse resides fenced up and grazing at the grass. She whinnies as her master approaches, nearing the fence to rest her head upon it so that he may pet her thick and lucious mane as it falls over the wood. 

“There is a trail just over the bridge and up the mountain a little ways. Not as easy to follow as the road but it’ll cut your trip in half.” Says Alvor as he leads the chocolatey brown horse from her confinement, using his head to signal the direction in which they should head. 

If they need anything, it’s to make their trips shorter for sake of getting help as fast as they possibly can. 

Alvor saddles up Merry while Kaidan and Vael watch. She has seen perhaps half a dozen horses since her arrival here in Skyrim. But never has she ridden one. Merry’s height is intimidating, but her eyes are warm and friendly. Vael can only hope that Kaidan knows how to handle such a creature. And by the way he confidently steps toward her once she’s prepared for departure, he seems to know. Except, he doesn’t hoist himself on top of her and instead, stands at the right side of her chest expectantly. But Vael really doesn’t understand what it is he’s expecting.

A few moments pass before he says, “Come on, then. I’ll help you up here.”

“Oh,” She replies. 

“Just step into my hands, I’ll lift and you swing your leg over.” He explains the process before crouching for the shorter woman to make it easier on her.

All the while, Alvor is watching them while tying a rope around the sack of supplies to keep them from tumbling out. 

Vael does as she’s instructed, placing the toe of her boot into Kaidan’s laced fingers, her shoe engulfed by them. She places her own small hand on his shoulder, the other around on the horn. He waits until her hands are secured to lift her with ease. A cool breeze fills the underside of her skirt as her leg comes to rest on the side of Merry opposite, hands gripping quite tightly to keep from slipping off. Kaidan grunts, heaving himself upward onto Merry and seating himself behind Vael. His armor clad chest is cold and hard against her back, but she doesn’t make to scoot forward. For if he weren’t there, she wouldn’t have felt secure enough on top of the horse. 

Kaidan manages to scoot closer, his thighs pressed to Vael’s. She looks over her shoulder to find that he’s leaning in, his arms on either side of her reaching for the reigns and winding them tightly around his fists. Swiftly, she looks forward. 

Yes, she does feel the most secure that she possibly could right now with Kaidan’s arms practically encircling her, she thinks.

“Here you are.” Alvor fastens Vael's bag and their supplies to the horse’s leather fixings, patting her on the hip. “Remember, bring my girl back to me in one piece or a dragon will be the least of your worries.” 

He’s half joking, half serious. Though, Kaidan and Vael would do their utmost to protect the animal. This is a kindness he’s offered no matter what they are doing in return. And so, they both give their word to Alvor before Kaidan clicks his boots against her sides, urging her forward. She canters, the sensation entirely new to Vael. Unknowingly, her eyes have gone wide and every muscle in her body has tensed to keep her practically bound to Merry.

“Y’alright there, lass?” He asks, voice deep in her ear, rumbling even through his dense armor. 

She nods stiffly but once, swallowing. “I’ve never ridden a horse before.” Vael explains tightly, his dark tresses blowing forth to tickle at her cheeks, making her twitch, as if her own hair isn’t doing a well enough job.

Kaidan chuckles, leading Merry through the trail that Alvor spoke of. “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep her from bucking you off.”

“They do that?!” Immediately, full of concern, Vael questions the legitimacy of that trait.

Kaidan doesn’t know whether to laugh again or question her basic knowledge of horses. So, he does neither and they ride onward until Whiterun comes into view through the copious trees that have come to hinder their way. Merry has proven to be agile, however, making quick work of every obstacle until a clearer path is found and that beautiful city grows closer. And as they become nearer, they find themselves slowing to a trot through a smallholding, careful not to ruin the future harvest. 

Before they know it, Merry’s hooves are clicking against the cobblestone road that, if they had taken it from Riverwood, would have made their trip much longer. But they hadn’t taken it until the very last steps toward Whiterun’s gates. They round the stockades, crossing a small bridge over a creek that runs just beneath. Now, the mountains from which they traveled are in full display, barriers around the neighboring holds. Skyrim’s evening sky is littered with stars and constellations, the flat lands proving to offer a wondrous scene.

But the sight beheld is only one treasured for the few sacred seconds it takes to near the gates where two guards are posted. One of them had already began to stride toward Kaidan and Vael, raising his torch and bellowing a HALT! Kaidan tugs slightly at Merry’s reigns to stop her from moving any closer.

“City’s closed with all the dragons about. Official business only.” The guard informs.

“ _Closed_?” From behind her, Kaidan is just short of enraged. And she doesn’t blame him, either for they have been traveling for too long now to be denied entry. “You would close the gates on those seeking refuge?” 

It isn’t right. Even if Vael and Kaidan weren’t looking for a safe place to stay the night, others might be. And if they come knocking, Whiterun, apparently, won’t be answering. 

“Jarl’s orders. If you are looking for a place to stay the night, Riverwood is not far---” He is too nonchalant, angering Vael now, too, her fists tightening. 

While Jarl’s intent may not be inherently spiteful, right now, it’s not doing unprotected villages in need any good. Vael raises her voice before he segways into making them turn around to head right back to where they came from.

“We've just come from Riverwood with news of the dragon!” 

The guard closest to them turns to look at his colleague for a brief moment, perhaps as if to ask if this little woman is really shouting at him or if she's just a figment of his puny imagination, before setting his helmet covered face back to Vael and Kaidan. Swallowing, she goes on.

“The Jarl would want to know as much information as he can, wouldn’t he?” She argues their case, but she isn’t done just yet. “Riverwood is part of the hold that your Jarl is responsible for. It’s his duty to protect his people and we are here to see to it that he knows what is going on so that he can.”

Although she can’t see him, Kaidan is impressed. Frustrated, but glad she’s able to use her voice. Kaidan may have just pummeled them.

The reluctant guard sigh beneath his helmet. Surely their Jarl wouldn’t begrudge them if the outsiders could come to provide what they knew. 

“Fine...but the horse stays. And we’ll be keeping an eye on the both of you.” 

The warning leaves Vael uncomfortable, her affliction for masked beings very much evident. But as they move to pry open the wooden gates, what’s done is done and they have gained entry to Whiterun. Kaidan slips off of Merry first, heavy boots slamming against the ground. He guides Merry toward a stake in the ground where he ties her up. Then, without warning, he grabs Vael by the waist, all but pulling her from the horse and setting her down on her feet with great ease. Which, if she’s honest, is a strange sensation after riding for a while.

Regaining her footing, she and Kaidan proceed forward through the opened gates. He glares at the more difficult of the two guards without fear of backlash, letting him know without words that he doesn’t give a damn if he’s got an eye on them because Kaidan has got his eyes on him, too.

The guard with much less to say does follow them, acting as both a guide and a watchful eye. 

Despite the warning of dragons, people still convene in the streets of Whiterun, having casual conversations and carrying on about their nightly routines before retiring for the evening. The guard’s eyes aren’t the only ones watching, however. It seems that the looks of a large man clad in armor from the neck down accompanied by a small woman and led down the way is something worthy of interests being piqued. 

Vael tries to pay them no mind. It’s much easier when they are out of view. There are a set of stairs leading upward into a small courtyard, the most gorgeous of trees at its center, shedding lovely magenta petals upon the ground. And just behind it, the statue of a warrior towers in equal height of the tree, intimidating as it watches with stone carved eyes and a serpent twining through his legs. 

Those are the last pair of eyes on them until they reach the bridge leading toward another titanic set of doors, a guard keeping watch and another, a female, barking orders at the man until she feels their presence, swiveling around with the speed of powerful wind.

Her crimson hues flit to Kaidan first, immediately preparing to draw her sword. Of course, anyone can see that he is of large stature, armed with multiple weapons and a roguish disposition. But only Vael and Kaidan himself know that he isn’t here to pose a threat. 

“What is the meaning of this interruption? You are supposed to be at your post and you two---” She takes a step in their direction. Kaidan takes a step in front of Vael as if by instinct. The elf does not like the display of dominance and doesn’t wipe the glower from her face.

“Jarl Balgruuf isn’t taking visitors. You---” She turns her attention toward the guard, “tell me why you’ve brought them here.” 

And like earlier, the guard has nothing to say in return. Luckily for him, an explanation is already flowing from Kaidan’s lips. 

“We’re here to see the Jarl about the dragon attack at Helgen. So you can keep your sword in your pocket.” 

Her expression shifts just as quickly as she had turned around to face them into something far less angry and more aghast.

“You know about Helgen?” She questions to confirm. 

“Yes. But we were sent from Riverwood to tell the Jarl himself.’ Vael says, unwilling to explain themselves yet again to someone who is not the Jarl, who does not have the power he does to provide immediate action. 

The elven woman glances between the two of them as if silently deciphering whether or not she should let them inside. News had traveled, but details of where this attack took place were kept under wraps as to not frighten the people without evidence and enough witnesses.

It doesn’t take long before she says, “The Jarl will want to speak with you about this. Follow me.” 

Where they are led, they follow as it seems to be the way of this city. But if it puts them before the Jarl, so be it. Inside of the castle are high ceilings lit with the flames of a fire burning on the level above the entryway. Tables of feasts are made up, the scents only reminding both Kaidan and Vael of how very hungry they are and how nothing within her knapsack nor the supplies Alvor and Sigrid graciously offered would really satiate their need for sustenance. 

Regardless of the comfort, Kaidan couldn’t look any more uncomfortable if he tried. Vael already knows why this bothers him the way it does. Not to mention, there are far more guards waiting to pounce on them should anything go slightly awry. Kaidan can only take on so many people at once. 

On his throne, relaxed in position with a thoughtful hand stroking his beard, is the Jarl. He is a blond man with his beard donning furs and gold. He seems to straighten up as they come into sight. 

“Irileth?” He says, thick brow quirked upward for an answer. Vael assumes that is their elven friend’s name. 

“My Jarl, these two were led by a guard posted at the front gate. They claim they know more of the Helgen attack.”

The Jarl’s interest in them has increased tenfold, inching to the edge of his throne. This only goes to show that the majority of those who saw the dragon are no longer alive to come tell him themselves. And those who have seen it and are alive to tell aren’t credible enough. Divines bless the old woman in Riverwood. 

“You were at Helgen? Both of you have seen this dragon with your own eyes?”

For what Kaidan hopes will be the final time, Vael regales a shortened version of what happened. 

“We were on our way to Helgen when we heard the attack. We didn’t know for sure what was happening until the dragon flew overhead. That’s when we finished our journey to Helgen and...and saw what it had done. Then, we fled to Riverwood to warn the people. They’re defenseless.” 

That alone should have warranted an order for immediate protection to be sent there. The Jarl seems to ignore her words to push for more details.

“And what of Helgen?” He queries a moment later.

Vael looks down at the muddy toes of her worn boots that poke from beneath her dress. Those images will not soon leave her even if she is growing tired of saying the same things over and over. The Jarl, however, listens. This is the first he’s heard an account so close to first hand. 

“Destroyed.” Is all she replies with. 

The Jarl nods, retracting back into his throne in deep thought. At his side, a lanky balding man in blue robes clears his throat to draw the attention of his superior. 

“What say you now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon, no less?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but Irileth has been anxiously awaiting a chance to say what she wants while standing on the steps beside them. Vael too wants to reiterate how imperative it is to get help to Riverwood. But Irileth seems to have the very same thing on her mind.

“My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. If the dragon is lurking in the mountains---”

“The Jarl of Falkreath will view this as a provocation. He’ll assume we’re preparing oining Ulfric’s side and attack him!” Finally getting his moment to voice his opinions, the man is clearly exasperated.

“Enough!” The Jarl whoops, fist slamming down onto the arm of the wooden throne. Not a single sound is heard and even the maids stop their chores to keep from making a peep. “I’ll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!”

That’s all Vael wanted to hear; the proclamation of the Jarl ready to defend his land and the people within it. A strong leader is what they need right now. Someone to make quick and effective decisions for the greater good. 

“Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood immediately. Proventus, return to your duties.” He orders, standing up. Both Irileth and Proventus bow in reverence before seeing themselves off to do as they were told. 

Now, Vael and Kaidan are left to wonder what is next for them. Vael supposes that they’ve done all they can do. They came to warn the Jarl and obtain his aid and they have done so. But the Jarl looks down from his stance on the step at the pair as if they aren’t finished at all. 

“You have both done Whiterun a service that I nor the people of Riverwood will forget.” Jarl Balgruuf acknowledges. Though, Vael can’t really bring herself to accept any sort of praise for simply doing the right thing. “But there is something else I believe you could do for me.” 

Balgruuf remains perched above them, only the smallest bit taller than Kaidan who he looks to solely. Vael too sets her eyes on Kaidan who maintains a smoldering stare at the Jarl, waiting for what it is he’s going to say next. 

“It is suitable for someone of your... _particular talents_.” The blond looks Kaidan up and down as if he were Skyrim’s most notorious criminal mastermind, his voice sly. 

“And just what do you think those talents might be?” Kaidan counters facetiously. 

The Jarl’s expression morphs as he shakes his head. “Don’t take offense, my boy. It’s a job for someone who can handle themselves in the face of danger. And by the looks of it,” He pauses to gesture toward nearly everything about Kaidan from his armor to his sword and the sheer size of him, “you can do just that.”

Kaidan clamps his mouth shut, jaw tight. Vael opts to intervene to keep from falling out of the Jarl’s good graces so soon after falling into them. 

“Jarl Balgruuf, pardon us. But we have been on the move all day. We don’t have it in us for more travels.” Vael excuses, fatigue lacing her voice. 

“Of course. I will see to it that you are both given accomodations for the evening. In the morning, we will meet with my court wizard to discuss this...task. If then you still feel you aren’t able, you are free to decline.” 

ooo

Neither of them were expecting to stay the night in the Jarl’s castle. Which, Vael later found out, is called Dragonsreach. After the Jarl retired, she pulled Kaidan to the side to convince him in hushed tones that they should just take the opportunity to stay until morning. Kaidan warily agreed and they were seen to separate rooms just across from one another. 

Vael was treated to a bath in the warmest, smoothest and most glorious smelling water she’s ever had the pleasure of bathing in. Her clothes were stripped away, taken by the maid to be washed themselves. But the maid hadn’t gone without grumbling over how tattered her clothing was and how difficult it would be to get the stains out. Vael couldn’t bring herself to feel even the slightest bit insecure given how eager she is to be clean. Five days without a real bath might have been the longest she's gone without.

The steam rose from the surface as the sore muscles of her body broke it to rest beneath the heat, taking her good old time in washing away the dirt and grime still left from the pathetic excuse of a bath she had given herself earlier that morning in the cold river water. Fully submerging herself, Vael stays under for some time, her dark curls like ink swaying in the water. When she arises, she finds that a shift has been lain out for her to change into. It’s only when the water goes cold some time later that she finally gets out, patting away the droplets of water on her tawny skin that erupts in goosebumps upon the smallest of breezes. 

In her room, dressed and significantly more awake after feasting on the food that was waiting for her once she returned, Vael takes it upon herself to roam until coming across a library. Inside, children’s books are strewn about, stories that even Vael heard as a child. As she fingers through the pages, she’s unlocking memories she forgot were there. The sound of her mother's voice lulling her to sleep with fairytales soothes her tremendously.

Also in the library are rolls of parchment and calligraphy supplies. Borrowing the lit candle sitting on the table opposite, Vael sets it down along with herself. Now would be a good time to write to Alda, she thinks. It would be easier to find a courier here in the city than wishfully thinking they’d run into one on the way to...wherever they’re headed next. 

Vael settles the chair, a leg tucked beneath the other while its partner dangles, bare toes brushing the wooden floor as she begins to set up a writing station. Quill to ink and ink to parchment, Vael lets it scratch out the words she is so carefully crafting in her head. 

_Alda,_

_I am writing to you from Dragonsreach in Whiterun. I did as you asked and searched the abandoned prison. It turns out that it wasn’t abandoned at all. There was no direct sign of Mikavier but I did find this note that I’ve attached. I’m not sure what it means but if it has any significance to you, then it should be yours._

_I’m not sure when you’ll receive this letter, but I want to tell you myself, nonetheless. I traveled to Helgen. My companion and I were close when we heard the attack. It was a dragon that destroyed Helgen. There were no signs of survivors. And if there are any, I wouldn’t know where to look. I am so sorry. If I learn of any new information, I will write to you as soon as I do._

_I hope you are well._

_V_

“Vael?” 

Just as she’s signing her name, it’s spoken. Vael looks up to find Kaidan resting on the frame of the doorway. He’s clean now, all of his hair tied back from his face that glows with the gentle light of the candles. He wears a shirt not too dissimilar from her own except shorter and brown pants like the ones she had found him in. Needless to say, he looks far more comfortable even if he’s itching to get back into his armor on the inside. She smiles softly, relaxing back into the chair as he enters, grabbing one for himself and taking a seat beside her. 

“The maid said you’d wandered in here.” 

Vael tucks a damp stray curl behind her ear. “I wasn’t ready to sleep just yet. It’s not every day you get to stay in a castle.”

Kaidan shakes his head. Apparently his stance on the matter hadn’t changed and he wouldn’t be sad to say goodbye come the morning. Which then made her wonder if he figured his debt was well paid off after the last few days spent with Vael. Maybe he would be saying goodbye to more than just Dragonsreach. The notion makes her feel quite lonely even though he’s right there with her now. She’s not ready yet for another goodbye no matter how short a time they’ve known one another. 

“Who are you writing to?” Asks Kaidan, pulling her from her thoughts as his eyes squint to pick out keywords of the letter. Vael looks down at her partially signed name. 

“Alda,” 

“Still on that, eh?” 

She gives a shrug of her shoulders, poking the tip of the quill in and out of the ink bottle. 

“I want to keep her updated as best as I can. Mikavier’s family _lived_ in Helgen, after all. And for all we know, they died in that attack. She should know. Wouldn’t you want to know if it were you?” 

Kaidan’s face falls, his hands toying with the drawstring of his pants before they drop to his lap. It doesn’t take much to see that he’s perhaps dealing with his own family troubles. She thinks back to his sword and the brief explanation he gave for its importance. He never did finish the tale. 

“If this were my issue, I would have made sure that my family knew that I was safe if I hadn’t been offed.” He starts, finally meeting Vael’s gaze, his russet optics boring into her own. “I would’ve done anything and everything to be with the woman I loved. Especially if she were carrying my child. I wouldn’t keep up the cloak and dagger knowing that I was needed.”

Kaidan is quite serious and really, Vael is inclined to believe that he would do just that to be with his family; anything and everything. But the same could not particularly be said for Mikaveir. They may never know what happened to him. If he's alive or dead, why he didn't do everything in his power to come back to Alda. Did Kaidan's proclamation prove what kind of a mate he would be...or is? Better yet, did it prove what kind of a mate Mikaveir is? 

Vael knows only that she would want for her mate to be as dedicated as Kaidan claims he would be. Then again, the solution to a situation like this isn't linear. 

“Maybe it’s more than just wanting to be with them and provide for them. He was a wanted man. Who can say for sure what he could and couldn’t do? And no one is even sure if he’s alive---” 

That was the worst case scenario, wasn’t it?

Agreeing to disagree, Kaidan changes the subject. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about now, I’d say.” 

Before Vael can stop herself, she asks, “Does that mean you’re sticking around?”

Her question comes as almost a shock to Kaidan who looks to her as if he’s wondering why she’d ask that to begin with. Vael looks down to her letter, brushing the remnants of ink along the unused parchment that she plans to cut away. She can feel him watching her. 

“And leave before I’ve had the chance to teach you how to defend yourself? I don’t think so, lass.” Affirms Kaidan.

The corners of Vael’s lips turn up, gratitude abundant in her golden orbs. “And I thought it would be just the people of Skyrim I’d have to watch out for. Now let’s add dragons into the cauldron.” Vael scoffs, dropping the quill to rub at her temples. 

Kaidan is right, they do have bigger things to worry about now. As if she weren’t already aware. It seems that the exhaustion is beginning to set in, amplifying all that there is to worry about. One would think that being so tired would give the body a free pass to ignore all issues. Not for Vael, the eternal worrier. 

“Might be time to head to bed. We’ve got to see what that wizard wants with us in the morning.” He’s dreading that interaction already. 

Pushing herself up with a sigh, Vael grasps the quill lazily to sign off the rest of her name, taking the parchment to pack up tomorrow morning with the note. Kaidan too stands up, the pair moseying from the library together only to part as they come to the hall where their rooms reside opposite one another. 

“Goodnight.” Vael mumbles sleepily. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” 

And then, they both disappear behind their doors for a well deserved good night’s sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy! this chapter was meant to be a filler of sorts to try and spend time progressing kai and vael (bc this story is v plot heavy outside of their relationship) and it ended up being heavier than a filler in my opinion but i hope you guys enjoy!!!!! be sure to leave me words of encouragement! also, let me know where you would like to see this story go because i do take the desires of my readers into consideration when writing <3
> 
> thank you guys for reading!

No matter how tired she is, no matter how much warmth the fire brings the room is or how comfortable the plush furs feel against her body, Vael cannot sleep for more than a few hours on and off. The fields outside of the city and even the wooden chair in the corner of Candlehearth Hall provided better rest for her. Truth be told, she’s got a lot of her mind and too much parchment left untouched not to write it down. Elynea had always told her that if she couldn’t fall asleep, it’s because there is something else better to be done with her time. 

Her letter to Alda is procured from the bedside table before she slips from her room, stealthy sneaking her way back into the library to her table, ink and quill. It would be a sin not to write to Talvas of her travels thus far. Especially if she is sending a letter to Alda in Windhelm. It’d be much easier for Alda to get it to Solstheim from someone at the docks than it would be attempting to bribe someone here. And so, she presses her ink ladden quill to the torn parchment, scribbling a quick _P.S. Would you mind sending this letter to Solstheim? Thank you_ at the jagged bottom of her letter.

In the early hours of the morning, Vael spares no detail of her experiences. If this were going to continue on, if she were going to write Talvas to tell him everything, it may be most efficient to start now instead of much later down the line when too much happens that it’d be overwhelming to even think of let alone write. That is, if she’s got a long road full of stories ahead of her worth telling.

But maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to write her stories at all. If he were going to flee Solstheim to come to Skyrim and study at the College of Winterhold like he said he would, she could tell him to his face. Gods...how she misses that face. 

This letter is much easier to pen than her letter to Alda. Of course, it was difficult to tell her what had happened at Helgen. But Talvas is a childhood friend and she could blab to him until her voice gave out. She writes and writes, hand cramping. It doesn’t stop her, however. 

What does stop her is the maid from last night bustling by the cracked door with arms full of what look to be Vael’s clothes. Signing off on her letter and rolling each of them up, Alda’s with the note from the prison, to tie them, she hurries back to her room to find the maid laying out her freshly washed dress and boots. 

“Back in the library, were you?” 

Standing at the entrance of the room with her hands behind her back, Vael answers, “Yes, ma’am. I have letters that needed writing.”

“No need to explain yourself, dear. I only question since the handsome man asked for you. Wanted to know if you were awake yet.” 

Vael’s brow furrows for a moment before she realizes the woman is talking about Kaidan. He is handsome, isn't he...She wonders if the maid had shined his armor up special for him. 

Shifting on her cold bare feet, Vael watches as she makes up her bed and then scuttles toward her, toward the door. 

“Shall I tell him you’re awake now?” She looks all too hopeful that Vael will say _yes_ so that she may have an excuse to go to Kaidan’s chambers again. Vael stifles a grin and shakes her head. 

“No, thank you. I’ll go to him after I change...” She does well at hiding her disappointment. So Vael makes to ask a different favor of her. “But would you perhaps take these letters to the courier for mailing?” 

Rolled parchment extended, the maid gives a nod of her head before taking them. 

“Of course.” 

“Thank you. And thank you for washing my things for me, too.” Vael’s gratitude is genuine for she misses the life she had not a week ago on Tel Mithryn when Elynea would take to washing the stains from her clothes, not giving Vael the option to do it herself simply because Elynea was a master stain remover. 

The maid curtsies and then sees herself to her duties, leaving Vael to dress for the day. She opts to wear one of the very few options packed in her knapsack by Varona. The dress smells faintly of home as she pulls it over her bedhead, reveling in the scent until she becomes used to it and then slips on her boots. 

With her letters written and on their way to a courier, finding Kaidan is her next move. Only just across the way, Vael gently knocking on his door. 

“Aye,” His voice is muffled by the door between them. 

She opens it , poking her head inside to find him sat upward on the bed, a wooden tray of half eaten food at his side and his pant clad legs crossed at the ankle and entirely relaxed. The sight is quite an intriguing one to say the least.

“Good morning...I see you’re taking to Dragonsreach quite nicely. You know, for someone who doesn’t like castles or well off people and their _things_.” 

Rolling his carmine optics, he swallows a the final bite of his core eaten apple and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. 

“Oh, come off it.” He grumbles.

Pleased, Vale continues forward to swipe a bit of the jelly in the tiny cup beside the slice of bread, popping her finger into her mouth for a taste. It’s saccharine, tarte and one of the most pleasant things she’s had. Vael, for a moment, wonders why she wasn’t offered any. And then she recalls the maid’s minor infatuation with Kaidan. 

“It’s alright. I’m sure the maid wouldn’t mind you sticking around for a little while longer.” She teases, deciding to take the bread and smear the jelly over it for herself. As she bites into it, Kaidan sends her a look. 

She isn’t sure if it’s the sweet jelly or his reaction that makes her smirk. 

“Then she’ll have a broken heart when she finds out that I’m not.” 

When Vael says nothing in return, Kaidan moves to get his belongings in order. Then, he turns to face her, giving her a once over. 

“What are you wearing?”

Suddenly confused, Vael, mid chew, looks down her front at the dress. It’s not the finest dress, faded in color and certainly well loved. Lips pursed into something of a pout, she looks back up at Kaidan. 

“A _dress_...I---?” She sputters slightly.

“You can’t _train_ in a dress.” Kaidan explains, gesturing to the flowing fabric and then to his own armor that he begins to place on himself. 

Wearing a dress to train wouldn’t typically be her first choice (if she trained at all, that is), but it had done well enough to travel in as well as encounter several opposing forces. Perhaps pants and a tunic would be life changing.

“I wasn’t aware we were training today.” 

As Vael is about to take yet another bite of the bread, Kaidan snatches from her hand. “Well, we _are_.” 

He makes a display of finishing off the remainder in one bite before he pulls his scabbard over his body, Vael glaring at him since he had already eaten. 

“That bread could have given me the strength I needed. Now I’m dressed indecently and _weakened_ from hunger.” 

Snorting, Kaidan can’t help but indulge himself in her humor. He’s spent so long without a lighthearted companion that he forgot how to be lighthearted himself. Or maybe, given his upbringing, had never really learned how. 

“I’ll need it more than you do if we’re going to listen to that crackpot wizard’s proposition.” He mutters almost to himself, repelled at the impending meeting.

“If the Jarl trusts him, then he can’t really be a crackpot now, can he?” Vael points out. 

The pair head to the main hall where the Jarl is stood before Proventus who holds out for him what looks to be a map much like the one lain out on the table top just upstairs. They seem to be sharing deep and private words as their presence goes unnoticed for several moments before the steward draws Balgruuf’s attention to them.

“Ah, you both look well rested. I do hope you were comfortable.” 

Vael could have done with another hour or two of undisturbed sleep but she is most thankful despite her fitful pattern. 

“We are appreciative of your hospitality, Jarl Balgruuf.” 

After exchanging pleasantries, the Jarl lsays, “Come, my court wizard, Farengar, is looking forward to speaking with you both.” 

Leading them to a corridor not far from the hall, the Jarl presents Vael and Kaidan to a hooded man leaning over an arcane enchanter. Vael recognizes many of the room’s facets immediately having lived so close to Neloth who is a great wizard. Not even Vael could deny it no matter how terrible a person he is. 

She only hopes that his Farengar is better. And with the way Kaidan reacts to magic users, for Farengar’s sake, too. 

“Farengar, these are our friends who came to tell us more of Helgen and the dragon attack.” Balgruuf announces. 

“Ah, yes. Thank you, ” He observes them, first Vael and then Kaidan. Who he, like the Jarl last night, seems to be more interested in. Jarl Balgruuf leaves them to their business so that he may attend to his own. “I could use your help to fetch something for me.’ 

Vael glances upward to Kaidan and Farengar must sense their immediate apprehension. 

“Well,” He continues, “when I say _fetch_ , I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there.” 

Silence overcomes the room. 

“You’re _joking_.” Kaidan really does believe it’s a joke. With that delivery, how could it not be? And if the wizard had felt that they were on the verge of saying no before he had a chance to explain, then his explanation would surely be enough to solidify the decision. 

“I’m sorry---what does this stone tablet have to do with the dragons?” Vael interjects out of pure curiosity. 

Farengar chuckles, wagging a finger at them. “I see now who is the muscle and who is the brains and beauty. None of the candidates thus far have proven to be of more than one. You see, ”

 _Yes, she does see_. She _sees_ that perhaps many wizards share more traits than an aptitude for magika. Vael tenses. 

“when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors. Impossibilities. But I began to search for information about those dragons.”

It was clear now that the tablet held answers pertaining to the dragons. Answers that could potentially give way to a solution of how to get rid of them. Or at least understand them further which would be a step in a better direction than being utterly clueless.

“And where is this tablet, exactly?” Kaidan probes. 

“The tablet, formally called the Dragonstone, is said to be hidden deep within Bleak Falls Barrow. Supposedly, it contains a map of dragon burial sites.”

Kaidan finally looks down to Vael. They study one another for a moment. They had done what they came to Whiterun to do. What more could they do that someone else couldn’t? Better yet, why did they resort to asking this of Kaidan and Vael in a city full of people much more experienced and capable than Vael. Kaidan himself could do it, she’s sure. But her? 

“What do we get out of this?” Kaidan has made it quite plain that he works to be paid. And in Vael’s case, to pay off his debt he feels he owes to her. 

Again, the man chortles. “Do not fret. Should you return with the Dragonstone, you will be paid handsomely. Jarl Balgruuf has been generous enough to fund these studies.” 

“What is it the barrow?”

Vale’s question throws Farengar off, a puzzled look just barely visible on his shrouded face. 

“The Dragonstone, my lady. I’ve already told you---”

“ _No_.” Her response is abrupt as she stares him down. “What is _lurking_ in the barrow? Surely nothing pleasant.” 

There have to be creatures inside that even the bravest of warriors or the smartest of scholars would very much prefer to avoid. Money can buy only _some_ things and not the removal of fear. Farengar bobs his head once in understanding of Vael’s concern. 

“I will not lie and say that this ruin is empty or retrieval of the stone will be without difficulty. But I can’t say for sure what lurks. Only that you will have your work cut out for you and, should you obtain the stone, will be paid well.”

How could he know all of this stone and its location but not know of the threats that keep the stone from being procured? It pushes Vael to wonder if any others have ventured into the barrow and have not returned because of those very forces. That would explain why he not only isn’t in possession of the Dragonstone, but couldn’t tell them of the horrors. 

Then again, if he did know, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Fine. We’ll get you your stone.” Kaian agrees. Vael, at his side, glares up at him. She hadn’t agreed. But maybe, by the look of determination painting his face, he was going into the barrow whether or not she was coming along. 

Farengar shows his pleasure, clasping his hands together exuberantly. “Most excellent! We will plan for your departure tomorrow morning.” 

“But---” 

Farengar cocks his head forward expectantly waiting for Kaidan to continue. 

“My friend here will need proper clothes to travel in. And we’ll need some supplies, too. Maybe even an extra sword. Could you work your _magic_?” He bargains, half sarcastic.

If Farengar doesn’t appreciate Kaidan’s derision, he doesn’t show it. “I will see to it that you’re given what you need.” 

With that, Farengar excuses himself to do just that. Kaidan turns on his heels, heading for the main door of the castle. Vael is on his heels, taking three times as many footsteps to keep up with his long strides. She reaches for his arm to get his attention when her agitated whispers go ignored. He comes to a stop, turning to face her.

“Why would you volunteer us to go in there? You may be equip to head into that ruin but you know damn well that I’m not! Unless you plan to go in there by yourself.” 

“It’ll be no worse than anything we’ve already endured. At least we’ll get paid for it this time. Now come on, we’ve got training to do.”

Kaidan goes, but Vael, this time, does not follow. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest and stares into the back of his head until he realizes she’s not there. When he does, she can see the release of a heavy sigh as his back deflates. 

“You don’t really think that anything you teach me today will help me in there, do you?” Sure, he could show her a few moves. But would they stick? Would she even be able to swing her sword if she needed to? Talvas had been teaching her for years and still failed him that night. Though, she has to give herself some credit for managing to get the cultist’s dagger and using it against him. 

“It helps to give it a try. You might not be great at first but you’ve got to start somewhere.” Kaidan attempts to reason with Vael. “Besides,” There’s a hint of a smile forming on his lips, only the most minute of ones, “you heard the wizard. I’m the muscle and you’re the brains.”

Kaidan makes Farengar’s words sound so much better than he had himself. But she knows he’s right. They will be able to work better together just like that had been over the last few days. Giving in, Vael ambles forward. 

“And beauty. Don’t forget beauty.” She mumbles, peering up at him with her round hues and lightly jesting to let Kaidan know that she is with him. 

“Aye, how could I forget, _princess_?” He bows then, obviously mocking Vael but gesturing for her to proceed before him to the door. 

ooo

Vael is given a sword before anything else that Kaidan requested. No, he may not have been keen on her wearing a dress to practice forms and attacks, but if she could move in a dress, she could move in pants when the time came for them to head to Bleak Falls Barrow.

But before they would begin their day, Merry was awaiting them to begin hers in the same place she was left the night before. They brought her to the flowing waters just outside the city so she could drink and fed her some of the contents in the sack still tied to her saddle. She was bright this morning, tail swaying and eager to stretch her legs with her new friends. 

They walk with her for a mile or so away from Whiterun until they come across a tree that Kaidan thinks will be sturdy enough for Vael to crack her sword into, but not dense enough that she wouldn’t be able to pull it out. Tying Merry up some ways from them so she’s out of the danger zone, Kaidan pulls his sword from its sheath to begin his lesson.

“We’ll work on basic stances of standard sword fighting. It won’t be just upper body strength you’ll have to rely on. Using a sword requires a lot of footwork, believe it or not. ”

“Standard sword fighting? Do you mean to say there are more than just one kind of sword fighting?” 

“There are many, yes. And I’m trained in quite a few. But you,” Kaidan assists Vael in lifting her sword upward, “don’t need to learn them all right now. One at a time will do.”

Kaidan puts himself into first position, legs spread and knees bent. Vael emulates the position as best as she can, constantly glancing between him and her own form and adjusting accordingly. Kaidan stands straight now, circling Vael to make sure she’s got at least the footing down. 

“Keep your knees bent. Nothing worse than locked knees.” He shakes his head as if to keep a bad memory at bay of his own tightly locked knees. “You’ve got to be able to be fluid. It’s like...it’s like _dancing_.” 

Vael’s elegant brow quirks. “So you’re a dancer, too.” 

“No, I said it’s _like_ dancing.” Kaidan is quick to correct her. “ _Couldn’t pay me to dance._ ” He utters to himself a second after, causing Vael to purse her lips and hide her grin. 

“Now,” He stands opposite her, sword raised, “this is a basic attack. It’ll be best used if you get a head start on your opponent. But you want to make sure you keep your sword ready to swing in case of a counter attack.”

Kaidan repositions then, moving toward the tree and giving her an example of the move by swiftly striking downward into the rotting bark, the blade swishing as it cuts through air. Once he tugs the blade from the tree with little resistance, he gestures for Vael to give it a go. 

Suddenly, she’s nervous. It’s apparent that Kaidan knows exactly what he’s doing. But that’s the point of this, isn’t it? That he knows how to handle a weapon or two and she doesn’t. Swallowing back her nerves, Vael takes a few steps in the direction of the tree, Kaidan moving behind her to coach her as she gets back into stance. 

“Good. Make sure those knees are bent.” Nodding, she raises her sword, the weight of it not nearly as heavy as it looks. “Move your left hand up just a bit.” 

After holding herself in place and waiting for Kaidan to approve, he finally gives word that she can swing. And when she does, Vael gives it all the strength she’s got, barreling down on the poor tree with a wicked hit, slicing quite deeply. Taking a moment to acknowledge her word, she’s thoroughly impressed and it seems Kaidan is too as he approaches to give it a closer look. 

“Nice work. Now you’ve got to pull the blade out.” 

The swinging wasn’t too hard. But, It’s the removal of the blade she’s got trouble with, her struggle very much apparent. Vael attempts multiple times with little to no avail, ending up having to heave her boot flat against the trunk for added force. Only then does it spring forth. 

Each time, and he makes her do it many times, it gets easier. He assures her that it won’t be as difficult to pull a blade from an enemy as the blood will act as a lubricant. Vael almost vomits the few bites of bread she’d eaten earlier. The thought that she may have to use this technique, that she may have to kill again, doesn’t sit well with her even though it implies that her life is on the line. Because that is the only reason she’d harm another being, to save her own life or the life of someone she loves.

Kaidan doesn’t seem to think as she does, far more accustomed to death than Vael is. She thinks that to be an unfortunate thing to know death so well. Kaidan doesn’t come outright to say that he does know it on a personal level, but if he knows it at a professional one, having taken up bounty work, then surely he’s experienced it within his own circle of loved ones. Otherwise, how could someone seem so unbothered by it if they haven’t been trained to?

After a while, Vael begins to tire, her arms being worked in ways they haven’t been worked before. But something to eat and a break would surely do the trick. That, and Merry was getting antsy. She may miss her owner. And someday, she’ll be reunited when Kaidan and Vael have the chance to go back to Riverwood. 

By now, there are troops posted at the entrances, strolling through the village to ensure the safety and wellbeing of everyone there. Riverwood is close enough that if there was an attack, they would surely know. If not by someone coming to tell them in person, then by the sheer size and volume of the dragon itself. It would have make itself known. But as far as anyone is concerned, they are safe for the time being. 

Just passed midday is when Kaidan and Vael decide to head back into the city, leaving Merry under the protection of the Whiterun Stables staff where she was able to socialize with the other horses instead of watching the two guards at the gate all day long. 

The Jarl is kind enough to extend their welcome in Dragonsreach until they depart early tomorrow morning. There much left undiscovered within these stone walls. Vael takes the opportunity to venture through the castle while Kaidan saw himself to his room. She quietly laughs to herself at the thought of him needing a break from her already despite pledging himself to her for the next however many days or months or years. She’s getting ahead of herself since this was something he felt he needed to do and not something Vael expects. He’s free to leave when he pleases, but she would gladly have him stay if he’d like. 

ooo

Come supper time, Vael is invited to dine with the Jarl and his children of which she had not realized even existed until the maid came to her room to extend the offer. That would explain the children's books scattered in the library. Nevertheless, she freshens up but soon finds that it was pointless as one of the Jarl’s children spills an opened bottle of wine right onto Vael’s chest and soon, her lap. The Jarl is too invested in conversation with his steward to reprimand his child let alone even hear Vael gasp and jump slightly upward. Vael has reason to believe he wouldn’t have punished him even if he were to have witnessed it. 

Someone who did see is Kaidan. He sniggers from across the way at Vael’s misfortune, a cloth napkin balled in one fist that rests upon the table while he bites down on the knuckles of his free hand. Meanwhile, she’s patting herself off with her own napkin, glare so potent it could burn a hole right through his head if she really wanted to. Vael might just have to see to it that the daughter, who sat herself right at Kaidan’s side, flung her potatoes at that smug face of his. 

Though, she takes after the maid in that she seems to have a bit of a crush on the man. She’s a lost cause as far as revenge goes. 

The youngest son, however, the little _tyke_ , makes sure that Kaidan is not left out of the loop with a generous glop of juniper berry sauce to the vast region of his upper body, caking his jaw among other places. Vael sees this as a most opportune moment and lifts her hand to point at her own jaw, signaling to Kaidan who is already quite aware. 

“You’ve got something just...just here.” 

“You’ve got something just there--- _bugger off._ ” Kaidan grouses just loud enough for her to hear. It only serves to make Vael have to work harder to keep from bursting out in laughter. 

What delights her even more is when the maid makes haste in coming to clean Kaidan up. Sure, she hadn’t come to Vael’s rescue. But this...the sight of Kaidan begrudgingly allowing the old woman to wipe off his face while he stares blankly forward like a fourth petulant child is divine and worth the sticky wine plastered on her torso. 

Oh, and it gets even better when the Jarl bursts into a hearty laugh before ruffling his boy’s hair as if to say _boys will be boys_. 

Abundant in food, drink and conversation, the dinner could have gone on all night. But Vael and Kaidan excuse themselves with the grounds that they have an early morning and plenty of work to do tomorrow. The Jarl bids them both a good night and that he will see them off in the morning.

“The Jarl’s children need a boot up the arse. Spoiled little rieklings...” They had just barely made it out of the dining hall before he’s leaning inward to mutter to her his dislike of the kids. 

Initially, she snorts as a response. Neloth had quite a mouth on him. Elynea, too. But Kaidan’s comment over something as small as a bit of food chucked at him is all too funny. 

“They’re only _children_ and it was only _juniper berry sauce_. They could have stabbed you with their fork or something much worse.” 

“Brynjar would have wrung my neck if I pulled a stunt like that. May not have had the best manners himself, but sure set a better example for me than the Balgruuf does for his kids.” 

_Brynjar_...he’s spoke of him before. A few evenings ago.

“I thought you said Brynjar was a friend of yours. You make him sound more like...more like a father figure.”

Kaidan has since set his vision doward, watching the floorboards pass with each step of his feet. Vael watches his profile for any indication of what may be going on in his head. 

“He was in more ways than not. He raised me. Taught me everything I know from how to defend myself to how to survive in the wilderness. I’d traveled with him across Tamriel before the age of seven. I learned to use a sword sooner than I did to read. But that was Brynjar; relying on his brute strength and instinct instead of his brain. Classic Nord, if you ask me.”

As a fleeting thought, Vael notes that Kaidan doesn’t look like a Nord. His features are strong, but unlike the Nord’s she has seen. His hair is black and his skin similar in hue to her own. Now, she is half Nord herself but even though her Dunmer side is prevalent, her Nord traits are, too. Kaidan on the other hand...

“So you had a less traditional upbringing, then?” 

At this, Kaidan chuckles. 

“You could say that, yeah. On my thirteenth birthday, he took me on a hunting trip in the wilderness- and when I woke the next morning, he was nowhere to be found. All he left me was some flint, a knife and an empty waterskin.” 

He pauses to reflect on how terrifying it had been, all of those memories of being alone among the trees and the creatures. Vael doesn’t speak as she can see that he’s taking his time to process before opening his mouth to continue on. 

“It took me two days to get back to civilization, but I learned the importance of self sufficiency by then.”

Vael can understand now why he’d say such a thing about the Jarl’s kids. It seems that he didn’t have a fraction of what these children do growing up, let alone a childhood at all given how paranoid he portrayed Brynjar to be. Vael assumes there was a lot of tough love. That’ll harden a person. Maybe not Vael who has only experienced tough love to a lesser scale, but for Kaidan...the same may not be able to be said. 

And that saddens her immensely.

“Why do you think he tested you like that?” 

Kaidan’s thick brows raise. He’s thought of that question himself, even come up with a plethora of answers but never thought he’d get to voice them out loud to someone who cared to ask...to someone he’d even tell this story to. 

“I think Brynjar was running from something and he spent his whole life teaching me how to protect myself from whatever it was. Not that he told me.He was always vague about his past and even more so about mine. Always promising to tell me and then dying before he ever got around to it. ”

Bitterness is unmistakable in Kaidan’s tone, even anger. But he’s fast to sheath those emotions whether it’s for Vael or himself, changing the narrative to something positive that has come from it. 

“That run-in with the Thalmor seems to have shed some light on it, though.” 

The Thalmor had been tracking Kaidan and his nodachi seemed to solidify his importance to them. 

“It’s got to do with your sword. Do you think he knew more of it than he let on?” Questions Vael to which Kaidan replies almost instantly. 

“I do. He was given the sword by my mother for a reason. And that sword was given to _me_ for a reason, too.”

Vael is trying to place together a puzzle that she doesn’t have all of the pieces to, that she’s cautious in asking for. But Kaidan seems just as lost as she is. And if he can't put together his own puzzle, how could she?

“But if Brynjar knew and he taught you how to protect yourself, then why couldn’t he tell you what you were protecting yourself from? It makes no sense.” 

Kaidan shrugs, confirming the very thought Vael had previously had. The man who raised him since birth was all but a mystery. Kaidan himself might as well be considered one too given that he hasn't many clues pertaining to where he comes from. 

“The man hardly even spoke of my own mother. It’s not such a far fetched idea that he’d keep secrets.” 

To not know one’s own mother is a notion beyond something that Vael can fathom. She was fortunate enough to have her mother long enough that she could memorize her face and the sound of her voice and little details about her that only she would ever know. When she passed away some years ago, she swore she would never let those memories collect dust in the back of her mind. But not having those memories at all? It would feel empty. 

“Do you know anything about her?”

“Only that she was beautiful, brave and clever...but nothing actually useful. But that’s why I came back to Skyrim in hopes that I could solve this mystery myself but I got frustrated because I hadn’t made any progress so I...”

 _Ah_ , Vael can see the way he visibly shuts down, clamping his mouth before anymore words can come out. Kaidan may not know much of Brynjar’s story or his mother’s, but he knows the one he’s created for himself along the way. There is much pain in his eyes that even Vael can make out regardless of how he looks in contempt toward the wall ahead instead of at her, like he’s looking at something from his past, disappointed and disgusted. 

Perhaps she’s glad he isn’t staring at her like that, after all.

For some time, they stand together in the dead center of the hall between their rooms. Vale doesn’t know if she wants to be the first to break the silence in fear of interrupting his thoughts. However, if he’s thinking terrible things, it might be best to reel him back. 

“Kaidan?” She calls softly. He turns his head, looking down upon her just as she’s looking upward to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

It’d be better than keeping it bottled inside. The conversation had transitioned seamlessly from bratty children to learning more about Kaidan, no part of it needing to be tugged out like a sword in a birch tree like earlier. But his lips press into a straight line and he averts his eyes again. 

“No. It’s not a story worth retelling.”

Vael’s curiosity may make her bias, but she disagrees. However, she doesn’t press onward. If he wanted to tell her, he would. And she’d offered to listen to whatever else he wanted to say. There is little more she can do until he’s ready. 

There is another long pause before they both bid one another a sumber goodnight much unlike the evening before. Vael retires to her room, slumping onto her bed and lazily kicking off her boots. She sits there for a while, theorizing in her head just what could have made Kaidan withdraw the way he did. She already knew of his work as a bounty collector; murder at its core. It helps her to remember that many of these bounties are for evil people.

But what else could have brought him such shame? 

Sighing, Vael looks around the room at the crackling fire in the small hearth and then to the wardrobe. Hung on it’s open door are multiple leather pieces of armor, rich in color of deep brown. Vael traces the bodice. It’s sturdy with built in shoulder pads of iron covered in that beautiful hide. Farengar had done well and she’ll be sure to thank him come morning.

And if it weren’t for Kaidan’s bargaining, she would be left to travel into Bleak Falls Barrow wearing her wine stained dress. At least this armor will offer her some protection. 

With the reminder that there is business to take care of in the morning,Vael forces herself, after scrubbing her chest free of the dried liquid in the small basin of water left at her bedside, to strip and change into the shift and crawl into bed and think only of rest. Otherwise, she won’t sleep a wink if she lets her mind wander. 

Vael hopes that tonight will provide a less fitful sleep. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOWDY Y'ALL!!! i'm back with chapter 8. i was planning to write multiple chapters and upload them all at once but i failed for right now. i'm so sorry for the wait on this chapter but it's a hefty one for sure and i struggled with it for a while. also, i brushed over this one time to check for any flaws that stuck out to me but i didn't find any. it's 2:30 am and a bitch is so tired but i do hope you guys enjoy! and please let me know if you spot anything wrong and i will most likely be back to fix all of the mistakes! 
> 
> as always, thank you for reading, your comments, kudos and interactions on my tumblr! 
> 
> happy reading, friends <3

Farengar warrants his hirelings in the early hours of the morning, drawing them from the warmth of their beds and the comforts of this castle to do his bidding. The Dragonstone awaits them within Bleak Falls Barrow...among the many other obstacles that are sure to hinder them on the way. But this is what they’ve signed up for. And the pay, as Farengar promised, would be well worth their efforts. But it matters not, Vael supposes, if you’re offered work from those highest in the pecking order or not. They’ve been briefed, but still will not know exactly what to expect until after they make it through the ruin and back.

It was a very good thing that Vael had managed a deeper sleep than the night before. In fact, she was quite disappointed to be awoken by knocks on her door and then the voice of the maid letting her know that it was time. She would head to Kaidan next. In the meantime, Vael swings her legs over the side of the bed after reluctantly throwing the furs from her body. Her toes barely touch the ground, grazing it when she rolls her ankles. She can still feel the aftermath from yesterday’s training in her torso and prays to anyone or anything above that will listen to keep it from getting worse. 

Finally, she stands from the bed several moments later to initiate the day. She could have sat there longer if her will weren’t strong enough. But the leather armor calls to her from the wardrobe. Peeling from her shift from her body and laying it on the unmade bed, Vael begins to dress in the gifted pieces. There is room to move, but not so much that it hangs loosely on her form. And the insides are soft, lined with a shorter coat, but not quite like the fur she sleeps upon. 

Vael makes quick work of her hair, tying her curls away from her face. That’d be the last thing she needs to deal with. Kaidan seems to have the same idea, or the same idea as always. As she emerges from her room and into the main hall, sword latched to her hip in its sheath, she finds Kaidan armored up, his own hair half tied into a knot at the back of his head. He stands with Jarl Balgruuf and and Farengar. The maid makes her way from the servants’ quarters with a new bag of supplies to aid them in their mission. The supplies are handed right off to Kaidan who slings it over his shoulder to rest on his back along with his weapons. 

“Ah, I hope your new armor is to your liking.” Farengar greets as she enters, drawing the attention of the Jarl and Kaidan toward her as she strides in their direction. 

Vael, who hasn’t had any sort of armor a day in her life, wouldn’t know the difference of it’s decent or not. Regardless, she’s appreciative and she hopes that shows in the reverent bow of her head. It’s warm and will do well to protect her from the harsher colds of the mountaintop.

“It’s quite comfortable, thank you.” 

Farengar smiles in return, leading them back to his workspace. She and Kaidan fall in line together, walking at one another’s sides. They parted last night on...terms of which she can’t decipher. They weren’t bad per say, but he went to bed distraught and Vael concerned. Their conversation was heavy even for shoulders as strong as his It only makes her wonder just how long it’s been since he’s talked to someone. Really talked to them. But it isn’t her place to push. He’s not Talvas. She can’t force him into spilling his guts. 

However, she can feel his eyes on her and so, she turns to find just that; his gaze. A half second before that, she was sure he’d mention last night but he seems to be taking in the leather she’s sporting instead with curious, yet appreciative, eyes.

“ _What?_ ”

“You look... _safe_.” He manages. But just barely with his tight voice, almost as though he wasn’t expecting to say anything at all, caught off guard when she asked. 

Vael looks quizzically at the man before stifling a titter and pointing out, “That _is_ the point of armor.” 

Kaidan’s lips part, looking as if he’s going to retort before quickly shutting. She’s right and there isn’t anything to argue, his silly comment has already been heard. Farengar changes the subject for the both of them even if he’s completely unaware. At his table, Farengar requests from Vael her map. He unrolls it flat against the wood, procuring an inkwell to hold it down and a quill to mark the spot.

“The barrow is upon this mountain. Here,” He traces a light line, “is a path. Not a formal one. But a shortcut that will also lead you right to Riverwood if you take it.” 

“We know it.” Vael confirms, having rode Merry through only days before at the recommendation of Alvor.

“Good. Then it won’t be difficult to find. But remember,” The wizard gestures toward the area between the beginning of the path and Bleak Falls Barrow itself, “the barrow will likely be guarded. Be aware.”

_As if there were any other way to be._

Farengar pinpoints the locations with heavier strokes of the quill to solidify them, fanning the ink to dry before rolling up the parchment map and handing it back to Vael. There is nothing more he can tell them, nothing he can give them. It’s their time now to take what they’ve been given and go forth to the barrow to retrieve the stone. Only then will they have answers and only then will the finally reap the rewards of which they have earned for their work. 

As they turn to start for the main hall once more, the Jarl steps forward to clasp a firm hand on Kaidan’s iron shoulder, glancing between he and Vael. This message is clearly for the two of them. 

“I hope to see your faces again, friends. May the Gods be with you both.”

Appreciative of Balgruuf’s words, the pair heed them internally. They would need all of the help they could get...well, Vael would. 

On the short walk toward the exit, it was mutually decided that Merry would stay at the stables. Alvor was expecting his girl back in tip top shape. There was no telling what fate any of them may meet at the barrow. And they couldn’t afford to risk her. Vael wouldn’t allow it nor had she even entertained the idea of using her for anything other than what Alvor had lent her to them for. The horse was safest here until she could be reunited with her master. 

From Dragonsreach to the gates of Whiterun, not a soul other than Vael and Kaidan walked the streets. The sun was just barely rising and the people of the city likely were, too. Only days prior was Vael like them; just a young woman living her little life at Tel Mithryn, tending to duties on the homefront and practicing magika, never thinking that anything would change. And when it did, the change proved to be damn near endless. Vael’s traveled and experienced more in six days than she has in her twenty, nearly twenty-one years of life. 

Part of her feels that it may only just be the beginning. Even if they retrieve the stone, bring it back to Farengar and receive their compensation, there are still dragons roaming the skies and destroying the villages. Only yesterday morning had she warned Talvas in the letter of the dragons, telling him to pay attention to not just his surroundings on dry land, but above him. 

Because why would dragons stop at Skyrim when they could simply spread their wings and defy the borders?

Often, in the last few days, have those intrusive thoughts played in her mind. And the fear it plants only grows. If there were any way more immediate than writing that Vael could communicate with Talvas or Elynea or...Oblivion...even Neloth, she would! But the unfortunate fact of the matter is that this is a waiting game now. And by the looks of it, she will have plenty to keep her busy while she does. 

ooo

If the sun has risen, they would have not guessed it by anything other than knowing it’s been nearly an hour since they departed from Whiterun for the higher they climb up the mountain path, the more grey the sky becomes. It’s laden with the thickest of clouds that not even rays of sunlight could penetrate, but the stark white of the snow that covers every feature down to the inch offers something of brightness. But with a nasty storm blowing wildly in their faces, _seeing_ clearly is not an option. 

With fierce winds comes the burning of the delicate skin of Vael’s face, the tip of her slender nose numb, freckle dusted cheeks pink and lips blue. Her ears hurt worst of all, the chill causing them to ache furiously. Kaidan’s jaw is clenched tightly in attempt to keep his teeth from chattering, his own loose hair whipping about his face. Neither are built for the cold, but both can handle it. 

It may seem silly to think, but Vael would much rather be inside of the crypt than left to freeze a moment longer out here. But they aren’t far now. No, they won’t be pulling out the map to take a quick break in these conditions, but the mountain, from their view, isn’t much higher than where they are themselves. In fact, Just around the bend does Vael make out structures that are not natural. Arches break through the clouds, their design bold, dark and intimidating to say the very least. It’s almost unnerving to think that from below, from Riverwood or even Helgen, that the tomb would be visible if it weren’t shrouded by smog. It has always been there whether Vael could see it or not. Then again, even if she could, she was too preoccupied with watching out for a dragon to spectate the ancient ruins Skyrim has to offer.

“Hold on.” Kaidan says, taking hold of her arm before they move a step closer. 

His eyes narrow, squinting to see through the snow. Vael too takes a look, hues landing on the very same thing he was suspicious of. Outlaws stand guard outside of the ruin upon the steps leading upward. And there are sure to be more. They were expecting this, though. It’s no surprise, it was only a matter of time before the rest were scoped out...or before Kaidan and Vael were scoped out by them.

“I’ll take out the ones on the steps and then we can move in closer.” Kaidan explains, his grip loosening from Vael’s bicep before he reaches back for his bow, shifting it to his free hand to grab an arrow. 

The man, a hunter now, aims and then fires, his bow darting outward through the hindrance of snow and wind and directly into the chest of his intended target.

And now, they become the intended target.

The second outlaw who stood guard with the now incapacitated one is frantic as he searches for the culprit, making the others aware with his indiscernible shouts. Kaidan doesn’t hesitate to procure another arrow to send forth into the second guard’s arm. 

Vael does her part, throwing up a transparent defensive wall to shield them from any oncoming attacks from the others that begin to realize their fortress is under siege. 

“C’mon, we’ve got to push forward!” Kaidan shouts above the loud winds. 

“Stay behind me until we’re close enough for you to use your sword!” 

Kaidan doesn’t object, following behind Vael and occasionally popping from behind her shield to shoot an arrow all while arrows are being deflected from hitting either of them. 

The guards have fallen back, their own bows drawn and eyes sharp as they find convenient spots to fire from. But it’s not the marksmen they’ve got to worry about, it’s the ones charging at them full speed with war axes the size of Vael herself.

Of the elements, Vael knows how to utilize two when it comes to magic; fire and ice. Ice, in the midst of a storm, is not only fitting, but a great advantage. 

Cutting off the shield swiftly with a short warning to Kaidan, who is already taking on whomever dare step in the direction of his blade, Vael sends shards of ice flying toward the enemy. The savage is disarmed, his blood dripping into the pure snow and staining it vermillion. Within a split second, however, he’s gathering himself up to continue his advance on Vael, feral as he stares her dead in the eye and growling his pain.

She knows he won’t stop until she’s dead and so she pelts him with icy daggers until he falls to the ground and can no longer force himself to go on. Vael looks away before the sight can bring her guilt. Kaidan has no issue chopping away at each of the outlaws like trees, his battle cries not of anything more than exertion of his strength and will to remove any threats. With ice wielding between her fingertips, Vael moves closer to abet him, taking out yet another guard who thought to come at him from behind. Kaidan only notices when he pulls his nodachi from the woman’s gut that a male is lying just at his boots. Kaidan’s optice flit upward to Vael, giving her a quick nod of his head as a _thanks_. 

Despite having to deal with guards at all, once they were dealt with, it hadn’t seemed nearly as bad a feat as it could have been. Nevertheless, there are bodies laying about the barrow entryway and it won’t ever sit right with Vael. 

“Here,” Gloved hands scour the supplies, pulling out a bottle and handing it to her, “drink up. I know this magic stuff will drain you and we’ve still got a ways to go.” 

What he means is not simply walking their way through the barrow, but fighting their way through whoever, or whatever, is within. 

But Vael does as she’s instructed, popping the cork from the bottle and tipping a portion into her mouth, every drop strengthening her. It must have been Kaidan who requested the replenishing potion for her, knowing that she was better off using magic than she was using a sword for now until they could train further. That thought is enough to push her forward. 

They are met with doors of iron covered in rivets, intricately chiseled Nordic motifs decorating the entirety and thick circular handles waiting to be pulled. Kaidan, seeking the go ahead briefly from Vael with a look, takes hold of one, pulling it open just enough so that they can sneak in without a ruckus. They do just that, slipping within the dark ruins. It’s only a small fraction warmer inside than it is outside. But there is far less snow and far fewer gusts of uncontained wind. 

Kaidan closes the door with a great deal of caution for the heavy sound it may create. With ceilings as high as these, and Vael has already stepped farther inside to inspect them, made of stone, an echo would not be a far fetched fear. Though, echos of their own aren’t so much a fear now as is the voices coming from below. 

Shadows of the owner’s of the voices can be seen on the walls, a light warmer than the one that peaks through the fractured and dilapidated barrow roof bouncing off of the walls with every movement they make. Kaidan nearly causes Vael to blow their cover, brushing up beside her as he begins to crouch. Her heart catches on several beats before she can bring herself to mimic his movements and bending to keep themselves as hidden as possible. These people were likely no less willing to kill them on site as the ones outside were. But before any sort of confrontation, they need to know what it is they’re talking about and if it will help them at all in retrieving the stone.

“If that dark elf wants to go, then let him! Better him than us risking his life...” A male speaks, his words just barely recognized amid the sounds around them. 

“But what if Arvel doesn’t come back?” A woman questions as if not looking for an answer, but to make a point. She does shortly thereafter when she says, “I want my share from that claw!”

_Claw?_

Vael turns her attention to Kaidan who is just as unknowing of the claw in question. It certainly wasn’t a hearing mistake on either end. But the worry that there is something more needed to succeed in this quest, something neither she nor Kaidan are aware of, something that Farengar hadn’t even mentioned, sits heavily in Vael’s gut.

“Just shut it and keep an eye out for trouble.” The man grumbles in return, earning himself a huff from the woman who, by the movement of her shadow, decides to take her leave in Vael and Kaidan’s direction. 

It would be her last mistake as Kaidan stands to his full height, charging forth as she struggles with her own sword. But it’s too late for her as he strikes her down, her cry caught in her chest as she falls with a thud. Her accomplice is at the ready, not to avenge, but to protect his own hide. Vael does not spare him any of the ice that flings from her hands, giving Kaidan extra time to unsheathe his sword from the woman’s insides only to impale it right back into the male, finishing him off.

The pair lay dead together only feet from their bedrolls and and cooking stew. 

“Come on. We know there’s at least one more of them. And Gods only know what else...” Kaidan announces, becking Vael to come along as to not allow her to bask in more death. It’s the last thing she needs to do. The absolute very last. 

They venture down the craggy staircase, moving deeper into the crypt. Surprisingly, it’s kept well lit by the bandits, candles burning throughout the narrowing walls that have been encompassed by vines. The corridors have surely seen better days when they weren’t crumbling to the point of caving in on themselves. The falling of stones and the bursts of dust only serve to give both Vael and Kaidan anxiety for that very possibility. 

Nevertheless, they turn a corner to another staircase, a carved doorway at the bottom and...another outlaw. Except, he possesses no confident swagger as though he owns the place. No, he’s creeping along as if there’s something he’s cautious of. The farther into the room he steps, the less they can see him. It only makes sense to move forward and down the stairs until they’re posted on either side of the doorway’s opening, watching on as the man heads toward a lever residing in the center of the room, a gated door opposite him. With bated breath does Vael watch, waiting to hear the metal clanking of the gate rising the moment he pushes the lever.

It feels like a lifetime is passing between each step he takes until he does place his hands upon the lever, letting them rest there as if debating whether to push or not until he gives in and presses his weight forward. There is a pregnant pause, the man’s hands raising and his head glancing about in search of a consequence of pushing the lever. The consequence is not one he wanted, but what he got. Arrows come shooting from the walls, piercing his body in every direction until he falls and the arrows run out. 

The dying (quite literally) sounds of his whimpers fade out until there are no more to be heard. Kaidan takes the first steps into the room, Vael hesitant by the door. 

“Poison coated arrows. Careful you don’t get too close.” Warns Kaidan as he stands from his crouched position of examination. 

Vael enters after him to take a closer look for herself. Within is more than just an unopened gate, but stone carvings of faces adorning the highest points of the walls before them. Inside of their gaping mouths, animals. 

Kaidan is all too fascinated by what he’s witnessing, straying from Vael to explore the area while she stares into the stone eyes of unfamiliar men and wondering what a whale and a snake have to do with anything. It goes right over her head. When she looks downward at the body of the bandit, she has to force herself to look away. And in doing that, she finds yet another face in the ground that looks to not have always been there, but perhaps had a home beside the other two at one point. Inside of his mouth, another snake. 

“Kaidan?”

He hums from off to the side and Vael continues to ask, “Do you have any idea what these stone carvings mean?” It was worth a short to ask. But if he had known, or at least had an inkling, he would have said something by now.

“No. I can’t say for sure. But have a look here,” Turning, Vael nears Kaidan who is running his gloved fingers along yet more carvings of the very same animals in the mouths of the men. “Pillars. You can turn them, see?” He makes an example out of the first, twisting the heavy rock until a whale turns into a bird.

It still makes no sense. But maybe that’s the point so that any who enter looking to go beyond this point simply cannot. Glancing at the ground, Vael notes the arrow pointing on the rim of the pillar’s hold. 

“Do you think there are anymore arrows left in the walls?” She wonders, looking to the walls. 

“They stopped shooting out, didn’t they?”

“Right...”

And then she looks to the men and each of the animals contained within their mouths from left to right, like reading a book. 

**Snake.**

**Snake.**

**Whale.**

_Whatever that combination means._

At her side, Kaidan watches as her cogs in her mind turn, leaving her to solve their riddle because really, she can. Still, he wants to help in any way he’s able. 

“What are you thinking?” 

At that instant, she takes hold of the pillar. 

“Turn the center one until it’s resting on the snake.” She tells him as she pushes her own pillar to the serpent carving. 

Kaidan does as he’s told and he does it with much more ease than Vael can. But it’s done, nonetheless. And then the both make to turn the last pillar until it rests on the whale. Vael backs up, looking between both combinations to confirm that they are one in the same before making her move toward the lever. 

“ _Oi_ \---why don’t I pull it? I’ve got sturdier armor than you do.” 

He wouldn’t have let her be the one to pull it either way. But Vael sighs and agrees.

“Alright. But take his helmet first.” She replies, nodding toward the outlaw. He has lack for his armor now. Armor that couldn’t even protect him in the first place. 

Peeling the helmet from the bandit and placing it on his head, Kaidan makes sure Vael is well out of harm’s way before flexing his gloved fingers and reaching to pull the lever. This time around, there are no poisonous arrows being pelted, but the raising of the gate. Beaming, Kaidan tears off the helmet and tosses it aside to look back at Vael who rushes forward at their success. 

Lower they go, encountering a few skeevers looking to feast on their ankles. Vael fries them up without a second thought, fire crackling at the tips of her fingers for a change of pace. They fall, petrified by the heat Kaidan kicks them from their path down the spiraled ramp with the steel toes of his boots, uttering something about them being little buggers. 

What awaits them is another longer hall, covered in cobwebs. Vael hopes that they are only compiled of dust and dirt from being uninhabited for a long time. But the crawling sounds are unmistakable, causing gooseflesh to erupt over her skin. She twitches in response to the very thought of the eight legged beasts. More than once has she had horrid experiences on Solstheim when they would leave the comfort of the heavily wooded mountains for reasons unknown to Vael. They would soon come to regret it when destroyed by the locals and creatures far worse than them. 

“Bjorn?!” 

The both of their attentions dart forward down the corridor from which the name was called, the voice of the male reverbing. They listen intently. 

“I know I said I wanted to do this myself, but I need help! Hello?! Hagvar?” 

They follow the voice further, the webs becoming more and more of an issue to pass. Vael ignites them, practically melting them. The fibers dissipate into thin air, allowing for smoother movement through the archway. She’s fully expecting at any moment to be attacked by a spider of mammoth proportions, knowing that they would not be so out of place lurking here. 

Instead, they are met with a man pinned to the wall by a most dense confinement of webbing, writhing and wriggling, panting. He’s hardly even noticeable so concealed by web and rock walls. 

“You! Get me out of here!” 

He must be desperate, as he doesn’t seem to care that she and Kaidan are not the Bjorn or Hagvar he called for. But such is a bandit, right? Uncaring of anyone but themselves in the long run. They approach him with caution for that very reason. That, and they know not what may be waiting for them to step right into place for an attack. It must be strong given that it’s pinned him to a wall and has him begging for help. 

But perhaps this is the best circumstance possible. Vael has yet to forget that there is a claw involved here, allegedly. In fact...this must be who the bandits were talking about earlier. And if not, then the Arvel they spoke of was laying dead, poisoned. There is only one way to find out.

“Hurry up before it comes for you, too!” The dark elf urges in a low but panicked whisper. 

Boldly, Vael decides to exercise her speech by way of intimidation. “What are you doing down here... _Arvel_?” 

“I-I was exploring the crypt-I---" He pauses, eyeing her suspiciously. " How do you know my name?!” 

“We’re asking the questions here.” Kaidan asserts himself at Vael’s side and for that, she is grateful. Unfortunately, even the most desperate of men won’t succumb to a woman out of pride.

“Do you know about a claw?"

The elf is taken aback, opening his mouth but quickly shutting it knowing that only more stutters will come out.

They already _know_ that he _knows_. 

“Yes...yes I have the claw. I know all about it. And I’ll tell you everything if you get me down!” 

Truth be told, Vael was expecting a bit more of a fight from him. She was ready to strike a deal. Maybe she still can. 

“We will let you down if...if you give us the claw first.” 

“Does it look like I can move?!” He hisses, making a show of how incapacitated he is. 

Slight embarrassment overcomes Vael before she looks to Kaidan. He wears a wary expression, but steps forward anyway. 

“Keep still or else I’ll chop something off you might need later.” 

Slicing away the Arvel's holdings, he drops to the ground, landing on his feet. He stands , steadying himself as he glances between Vael and Kaidan. And then he makes a run for it, darting to his right and escaping deeper into the barrow. Vael, frustrated, is the first to sprint after him. 

“You fools!” He cackles, “Why should I share the treasure with anyone?” 

There is no mistaking that Vael was a fool for endorsing his release before they obtained the claw. But she can’t waste energy on kicking herself when what they need is at arms reach trying to be anywhere but! Kaidan is clanking heavily behind her, sword still drawn in preparation to cut him down the moment he gets within range. If anything, Vael would be the first to get to him---

“Vael-- _ugh_!” 

Vael’s front is met with armor and bone before Kaidan’s call can stop her or she herself. And for the first time in her life, she stares at death and it stares back. Not an instance of a cultist attempting to murder her or a body laying dead on the ground of her own doing, but a skeletal being moving as though it were alive. It shoves at her, pushing her away so that it can charge with its axe to behead her. Vael ducks, hands flying out with flames blazing. But even if the bones are being broken down to the point of disintegrating, it doesn’t happen quick enough and the skeleton still advances, scraping at her face with its jagged fingers and scratching her cheek. She gasps at the contact much less than the cut itself, jumping back from the thing.

With one hand raised, Vael reaches for her sword. She wouldn’t have been able to battle it without the aid of fire, but in swinging at brittle bones, she can cause a collapse sooner. That’s exactly what happens, her sword too strong for the bones to handle, the impact at the torso causing them to topple down into a cloud of debris. 

Around her are more of the very same creatures, Kaidan and Arvel fending them off. She steps back into the fight with her sword drawn in her dominant hand and flames held within the other, sticking as close to Kaidan as she can. The elf can only go so far before being overrun. Vael wouldn’t leave Kaidan to fight them all on his own. 

“What are these things?!” Vael shouts, dodging another blow before making an assault on its weapon wielding arm.

“Draugr!” Kaidan grunts, kicking away his kill.

Not a being she’s ever heard of before, but one she could have gone without ever knowing of. 

Two remain now, the elf taking on both. And he’s still got the audacity to call for their help. Vael, a slave to her compassion, prepares for another round when the Draugr finally best him, plunging their blades into his body. Flinching at the sight, not as Kaidan bounds in to take them down while they’re able to be caught off guard, Vael joins him in the takedown, weakening their bones with the heat of her flames until their threat it brought to an end and they can lower their guards if only for a few moments to search Arvel's body. 

Vael hesitates but presses onward, digging through the satchel wrapped over his torso. Inside, she procures a journal. And then, a claw. 

It’s cold and of a hue much like her eyes; golden. Vael beholds it within her hands. 

“We should read the journal. Might be something in there about it.” Kaidan thinks, reaching for the leatherbound book that Vael had left atop the man’s stomach. 

She stands, moving closer to Kaidan to see for herself what the words on the pages read. He skims, fingering through until there are mentions of the Golden Claw. 

“It says here that this claw belonged to a Lucen Valerius and that it’s a key to Bleak Falls Barrow.” Confusion masks Kaidan as they are already inside of the barrow. Unless that was how all of the bandits had gotten inside of Bleak Falls Barrow in the first place. 

“The solution is in the palm of your hands...” Vael murmurs, the pointer finger of her free hand tracing the ink letters. 

“We’re gonna have to keep moving if we want to figure it out.” 

They continue on high alert for more Draugr, finding only a few that linger. As skilled a swordsman as Kaidan is, they aren’t anything he can’t handle. Their smell, on the other hand...they reek of death. And that isn’t something Kaidan wants to have to handle.

 _Cold stink of death_ , he calls it. a Most accurate description.

Something fresher comes along, a sound with it that is not of growls and snarls. Running water splashing and flowing, leading them from the small brook to a waterfall that drops deep into the mountain. From above, a light so bright streams down to illuminate the stone walkway bridging together two sides. They are not as low into the world as they had previously thought. Vael can’t tear her eyes from above, the faintest rays from the sun visible to her and reminding her that they will soon succeed. 

Once to the other side, Kaidan is quick to take Vael’s arm as they enter a new space. From the ceiling hand vases and inside of them, fire. Vael thinks nothing of it, only that they are meant to light the way. Kaidan is going to learn her something useful for the wellbeing of both of them. 

“Be mindful of this.” He gestures toward iridescent liquid painting the ground in its vibrant colors that seem to change with each minor movement. 

“What is it?” 

“Burning fuel. And if those lamps fall, it’ll cause an explosion. It’s like the arrows. This place if full of traps.” Kaidan explains. 

Vael takes note, another measure of caution added as they ascend the stairs toward a large wooden door. Behind it is a long hall, lit with torches on either side along the length of the walls. At the end is yet another door. 

The closer they become, the more detail they can make out. What strikes Vael first are the stone rings and their small iron plaques. More animals. Then, she sets her vision on the three prong holes at the center of the door. Holes that would perfectly house the claw’s talons. Vael raises it to place them inside but stops herself in her tracks. 

“It’s the key. You’re supposed to use it on this door, right?” 

“Yes...it makes perfect sense but...but what if there are more traps at the ready. It can’t be that easy as that.” She reasons, taking from their experience thus far with traps and creatures laid out to ensure their failure. Kaidan understands, knowing she’s got a point. But they can’t stop now. 

“We won’t know until we find out for ourselves.”

Sighing, Vael turns back to the door, considering the rings and their animals. She places her hand upon the one lowest and most easily accessible to her height, pressing inward and turning it. Not much to her surprise, it moves and her excitement for what is beyond is renewed. 

“It’s another puzzle.” She says as she lifts the claw toward the light. “You remember what the journal said. “The solution is in the palm of your hands but I don’t think it meant just ours.” Flipping over the golden claw, she finds that the answer truly does reside there plain as day.

Three carvings; a **bear** , a **moth** , an **owl**. 

Vael gets to work, turning the rings until they match up with the palm of the claw. Only then do the talons enter the keyholes. When they do, the door begins move. She takes the claw, stuffing it into her knapsack and steps back to allow for the door to sink into the ground. 

“You really are the brains here.” Kaidan remarks, impressed by her thorough thought process when in reality, Vael is simply a general overthinker. “WOuldn’t put our guards down just yet, though.” Kaidan continues as they step into the once concealed territory. “Places like these more often use doors like those to lock things in and not out.” 

But Vael isn’t really listening, too drawn in by what she’s witnessing before her very eyes. A wall towers at the center of this new space, waterfalls cascading the stones surrounding. So much to look at, but only the wall is calling to her. She can almost hear it, like the chanting of a thousand men sounding off. 

“Do you hear that?” She asks, but in a voice softer than even a whisper. If he does, he doesn’t confirm. 

He’s concerned with his own detoured exploration. Still, he speaks. Not answering her question but indulging in his own commentary. Vael can’t be bothered to even wonder what it is he’s got to say because she’s too busy taking the steps that lead her straight to this wall. And as the chanting grows louder, more forceful, Vael can no longer feel Kaidan’s presence. If she were any more aware, she would realize too that she could no longer feel her own. 

All she hears are the voices. All she sees are the words. Words of a language she didn’t even think existed. They beg her to come closer, these etchings in the rock, to learn them and know them. Around her, light has failed. Blackened are anything and everything that are not pertaining to this word, it’s own blue tendrils of light stringing forward to grasp her and pull her in until she can feel the cold carvings beneath her fingertips. 

It’s like reading a book! Except this book consists of one word and one word only. Oh, but she knows this word now even if she can’t pronounce it, even if she can’t tell you the definition. At Vael’s core, this word is known by her! 

For some moments now, Kaidan has been watching her in silence, occasionally saying her name in hopes that it will garner her attention. It doesn’t. So, he approaches her steadily until he reaches her side, the light offering him knowledge to the small cut on her cheek. Even in such close proximity, she doesn’t pay him mind, entranced by the wall directly in front of her. Kaidan glances to the carvings. Sure, they’re interesting. Oblivion, everything in this barrow is interesting! But this is something more...

One by one do his fingers slip from his glove, his hand lifting so that he may brush his calloused knuckle over the soft flesh of her cheek, wiping away the trickle of blood that had dripped. Not at all startled by the contact, Vael slowly turns her head to look at Kaidan who is frozen there, observing her features keenly as if, like the wall to her, would speak to him since she would not. 

“Vael?” 

Lips part to speak in the very same moment a tremoring begins behind them. Both Vael and Kaidan turn suddenly to find a tomb resting at the head of the platform of which they stand on, the stone rumbling until it cracks, revealing a Draugr, armored with a weapon ready to take them down. Kaidan, glove be damned on the ground at Vael’s feet, whips out his sword to destroy the enemy. Vael composes herself, realizing that they were not yet out of danger. Flames bursting from her hands, every last bit of energy she’s got goes into burning the Draugr. It is admittedly much stronger than the others, making if all the more difficult to beat. But not impossible.

Eventually, it crumbles to the ground, leaving Kadian and Vael alone once again.

Seemingly snapped back to her normal self, Vael ventures toward the tomb only to glance inside to be sure there isn’t another that hasn’t resurrected itself. Her short glance proves necessary after all as she finds laying in the tomb a stone. She takes it between her fingers, lifting it to examine the rock as she had the claw

“That must be the Dragonstone.” Kaidan marvels at the tablet, Vael’s strange behavior all but forgotten. They had spent their time and energy searching for this and finally, at long last, it is in their safe hands. “Let’s just get it back to Farengar, eh?” 

“Let’s.” Vael agrees, wanting nothing more than to leave this place even if they have to make the journey all the way back through the winding halls. The sooner they start, the sooner they will return to Whiterun.

“Wait---” Says Kaidan, sliding his glove back on as he nods toward the stairs. “Those stairs might just lead us out of here.”

There was nothing left here. No stone, no claw. Anything that was meant to hidden and protected here was now under their protection. The stairs surely didn’t lead anywhere but out. Vael is willing to take the risk on a flight of stairs.

With their items of interest tucked away into their bags, they head upward, eventually through a narrow tunnel, at the end, a light. It guides them directly outside on the eastern half of the mountain far below where they originally entered from. Vael cares not where they found their exit, but simply that she can breathe fresh air and feel the warmth of the the sun as it beats down on them, the heavy clouds no longer obstructing their view. 

It hits her then, as the air does, that they have accomplished what they set out to accomplish hours ago. Now, their only feat left is safely scaling down the mountain and finishing their return to Dragonsreach. 

ooo

By sunset that very same day, after another hour or so of travel, are Vael and Kaidan nearing the city of Whiterun. They had stopped briefly by the river to drink and rest. Across the way was Riverwood, such a serene place this time of day. If they weren’t counted on to return as soon as possible, Vael might have suggested they lay in the grass for a while so that she could appreciate being outdoors. Vael had never felt so unsafe within stone walls. 

It wouldn’t be long now until they reached the gates, until they could place the stone in Farengar’s hand and he a reward in theirs. Vael can’t say the prospect of reward wasn’t a plus. After all they had endured to get to this point, she’d say they deserved some coin in their pocket. The Jarl wouldn’t allow them to stay in his castle forever nor did they want to. Especially not Kaidan who thrived while being on the move. 

He had done well in the barrow and Vael couldn’t have asked for a better partner to tackle this quest with, making up for what she lacked in brawn, attentive toward her blindly walking into trouble and saving her skin when she did. Then, she recalls moments before they found the Dragonstone. How she had lost touch with all reality for what felt like forever until he pulled her back with with the gentlest of touch, his finger to her cheek. 

Kaidan must have the same thing on his mind now as he clears his throat, offering up the first sound shared between them since they took a break by the river. He must notice how quiet she’s been. It could easily be accredited to being worn out from the excursion. But both of them know there is something that needs to be said. It’s only a matter of who is willing to speak on it first. Kaidan seems to want to take that leap.

“What happened before? When you walked off to look at that word wall it was as if you fell into a trance.” 

Right...she recalls asking him if he heard the chanting. And then nothing. Well, nothing but the intensifying chanting. 

“You didn’t see the light or hear the chants, then.” Says Vael in confirmation, a mixture of worry and fear in her voice. 

“Uh...no?” Swallowing, Kaidan seems to want to give her a bit of insight. He had been thinking on it along the way, coming to the conclusion that he had heard of these word walls before from Brynjol. 

“All I know is that word walls like that are usually considered a memorial in Nordic culture. Nothin’ about them...lighting up or making sounds.” He explains, slightly awkwardly. Vael’s face falls, her eyes landing right on her feet. If she hadn’t felt crazy before, she certainly feels it now. 

Backtracking, Kaidan goes on to say, “But it’s clearly had an effect on you. Are you feeling alright?” 

He needed her to know that that was his main concern; if she is alright or not. And given her silence for such a long period of time, he took that as a no. Even now with the opportunity to speak about it, she still looks hesitant. Or perhaps like she couldn’t explain it even if she wanted to. 

“At first, I heard chanting. It started off soft but the closer I got, the louder it became. And then I couldn’t hear you. I couldn’t see you.” Vael becomes distraught as she attempts to remember what she can. Kaidan watches her profile with deep solicitude just as he had when she was transfixed. “I couldn’t see anything but the word. And the most peculiar part is that I don’t know what word it is. I can’t pronounce it and I can’t say it because...because I don’t know what language it was in.” Vael sounds exasperated now, bewildered by this sensation of knowing something she doesn’t know at all. 

“Hey---” Kaidan utters, clasping his hand over her shoulder and bringing them both to a halt in the middle of the field, “there’s no pressure to explain it. I’d rather you take it easy than let some old magic scramble your brain.” 

Vael, with her helpless expression, looks up at Kaidan who assures her with a firm hand and gentle tone that it’s okay to not understand.

“You’ll be able to rest once we get this damned stone to the wizard. Maybe he can give you some peace of mind, yeah? C’mon.” 

If magic has anything to do with it, Farengar would know and he’d be able to do just that and give her clarity on what may have occurred in the ruin. Then again, he failed to mention their need for the Golden Claw. It made her want to question just how knowledgeable he really is. And now, the only thing driving her forward instead of crazy is Kaidan. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy! sorry it's taken so long for this chapter but it was a mother fucker to write lol. i hope everyone enjoys it, though! thank you all for reading and commenting and sending me lovely messages. you have no idea how much it inspires me to keep writing this story<3
> 
> p.s. i gotta be honest, after writing so much, i detest going back to read it. i DO because i want to put out quality work, but please forgive me if there are mistakes here because i was so eager to get this chapter posted! (maybe i should look into a proofreader or two lmao)

The Dragonstone had been weighing heavily, its burden exceeding a physical form. Knapsack secured tightly to her back, Vael’s hands grip the straps as though something would swoop down at any moment and snatch it away, rendering she and Kaidan’s hard work absolutely pointless. Though she may not look it due to being covered in dirt and sweat, fatigued from the excursion (to say the very least), Vael is elated to enter the Great Hall of Dragonsreach.

The Golden Claw is another story, one she is also eager to leave in Farengar’s care after she lays into him how necessary it was for them to have it to begin with. He could return it to its rightful owner, to the merchant it was stolen from. Funny to think that Lucan Valerius has no clue of its importance. And for that, despite his property being taken, Vael is thankful. If he had the slightest notion of what this claw was meant to for, surely it would have been much more difficult to procure even for bandits who make their way in the world stealing among other abysmal exploits. 

But they couldn’t outfight Kaidan nor could they outsmart Vael. 

They had spoken very little the remainder of their trip to Whiterun. After he mustered the courage to break her initial silence, asked her what had happened in the temple and received a quite, and completely warranted, unnerving response, he left her to her thoughts. Only when he saw her adjust the bag upon her shoulders did he offer to take it off her hands to which she declined with a simple _no, thanks_. _**Stubborn**...but polite_. Two traits he didn’t think could coincide and yet, here is Vael. 

The Great Hall is as they left it, nothing particular occurring as they enter. All of its regular inhabitants are moving about to set tables for the nightly feast, guards posted at the entryway and old maids sweeping, mumbling to themselves of the mess everyone carries in on their boots. It almost reminds Vael of Elynea and how frustrated she would get when Vael would come home with stained clothes or dirty shoes. Vael had to refresh her memory to the fact that they did live inside of a _mushroom_ , after all. Still, the environment is calm and yet, strikes her as strange. After what she and Kaidan have experienced, to be safe and sound seems like such an outlandish idea. 

Each passerby takes their turn to stare at the battered man and woman. Neither of them care to notice. The only thing they do notice, however, is the absence of the Jarl upon his throne. As they make a turn in unison toward Farengar’s quarters, it’s noted that Balgruuf isn’t there, either. But someone is...

A woman, blonde and clothed not unlike the servants in the castle, leans over the wooden table, palms flat upon the surface and examining intently an unrolled piece of parchment with images neither Vael nor Kaidan can make out from where they stand half in the doorway, half hidden by the wall for their own discretion. There is talk, low and almost muted. It’s apparent that this is a conversation meant to be kept under wraps. 

“It might not make sense to you, but it makes perfect sense to me. Each point on this map is a danger zone.” With her hand does the woman gesture toward the parchment which they learn is a map. But of what, exactly? 

Brow furrowed, Vael leans in a tad more to listen in. 

“I do not doubt that you’re making a valid point, but we only know of one dragon thus far. Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Reasons Farengar. 

Russet optics meet with gold to confirm that both sets of ears are hearing the same thing; not one dragon, but multiple. As if one weren’t trouble enough, as if one alone couldn’t take down every home, every farm, ever tower, every village and every city in every hold, add more dragons to the mix. 

“Wouldn’t it be safer for everyone if we jumped to this conclusion? There was already one attack. There are bound to be more and not just by the same dragon, Farengar.” 

The wizard issues a sigh from deep in his chest, sounding almost exhausted. He looks it, too. Even with his hood pulled far over his head, tipping just below his brows, darkened undereyes are unmistakable. No, it’s not the work of shadows, but his tireless efforts in regards to the dragon situation. Vael wonders, for a fleeting second, when the last time he slept was. Kaidan would have scoffed if he knew what she was thinking. He would tell her that Farengar is cheating with his magika and that they’re the ones doing the dirty work. Part of her feeds into that imaginary conversation until their presence is acknowledged. 

“I know you’re lurking. Quit it. Nothing I’ve got to say is for either of you to hear.” Nasty is her tone, intimidating her snarl. Their hiding spot, thought to be discreet, wasn’t hidden enough. She seems to have locked eyes on Kaidan who is the more threatening of the two of them, Vael supposes. 

No...no, she knows it to be true. 

The wizard turns his vision swiftly in their direction without making to ask his guest to settle down. She’s about to learn that they are most welcome here not only in Dragonsreach, but especially in Farengar’s study. 

“Ah, you’ve returned!” Surprised, Farengar greets them as though he wasn’t expecting them to return at all, no less within the very same day they left. Vael is equal parts startled by his shrill voice and offended. “My associate here will be most pleased with your handiwork after she’s worked to discover its location...that is, if you’ve found the stone.” 

Vael can’t help but make eye contact with the woman as they enter. Eyes of cerulean lock upon the pair as they enter the space, shuffling attention between the two of them and taking them in detail by detail, profiling in her mind. Vael sees now that she is more than just a woman, that her clothes matter not and that she isn’t about to share pleasantries. And truth be told, she doesn’t look at all as pleased as Farengar said she would be. Perhaps when she sees the stone, her expression will change. Not that they need validation from her with her cold eyes. Kaidan isn’t afraid of a little eye contact, himself. Which is why he doesn’t falter, even when Vael makes to answer. 

“ _Oh_ , we found the stone. And,” she places her bag on the table, removing from it the Golden Claw, “ _this_.” 

Farengar observes the item, intrigued and confused simultaneously. There is no question of what it is, a _claw_ , but to him, there still remains the question of what it is meant for. With it beheld in his hands, the man in in search of answers through the etchings. 

“Tell me what this means.” He finally requests not long after, connotation evading him. 

“It’s a key. One we needed to get into the main chamber where the Dragonstone,” Vael pauses to remove the dragonstone to which Farengar’s eyes grow in size and he forgets about the claw to remove his hood from shrouding his view, “resided.” 

He takes it, holding it is if it were an infant. His own son or daughter and thus, the most beautiful and treasured thing in his life. The answers it holds better have been worth their troubles and helpful to end this crisis. 

“Marvelous...truly incredible...”

“A key you forgot to mention we needed in the first place.” Conveying her annoyance, Vael continues on, drawing his attention from the stone back to her. He chuckles dismissively. 

“But look at us all now! You’ve both retrieved the stone after all and returned with little to no physical damage.” 

Stepping forward is Kaidan, just as, if not more, frustrated at Farengar’s response as Vael is. “You do realize that we would have fought our way through those ruins and gotten to the door without a key to even open it, right? Then what? Did your _associate_ forget to tell you that detail or was it you who forgot?” 

Kaidan takes a small dig at the woman who stands straight, at the ready for verbal sparring if need be until Farengar makes to deescalate the situation, vision kept on the blonde to ensure she remain calm. He must know she’s not one to be reckoned with.

“Now, now...you have both done excellent work. It was a mistake on both mine and my colleague’s part. One we are deeply sorry for. All of us are lucky that the claw practically fell into your hands.”

 _Ha!_ If only he knew the trouble they went through to obtain the claw after its previous holder ran from them right into the den of the dead. But Vael digresses, falling back to Kaidan’s side. He seems less willing to let it go, but slowly does his jaw begin to unclench and his fists unfold. Farengar places the tablet gently on the table behind him, the claw all but forgotten. It seems that its purpose was to open the door and to open the door alone. 

“The claw was stolen from a merchant by the name of Lucan Valerius---” 

“Lucan?” The name must mean something to her because her attitude shifts from that of indignation to shock, cutting Vael off before she could finish. Apparently, she had said more than enough. 

“Do you know of him?” Vael asks, curious of her reaction.

“I do. He owns a shop in Riverwood. I’ll return it to him, myself.”

It was agreed with her offer and a simple nod of Vael’s head that the woman would take the claw and return it to its rightful owner since she knows the man herself and just where to take it. 

“We’ve gotten you the Dragonstone, now where is our payment?” Abruptly and blunt as he may be, Kaidan couldn’t care less if he sounded money hungry. They have done exactly what they were being paid to do. It’s only fair now that they receive their payment. 

“You should speak to the Jarl. He will take care of you.” The Jarl had been good to them the moment they set foot in Dragonsreach. He will be most pleased with their success, more so than Farengar was. Not that either of them were necessarily looking to be paid in praise among fortune, but Kaidan, a man who has been doing mercenary work for some time wants to point out that details like the one Farengar forgot to mention would have gotten him killed or beaten severely if whoever else he sent to fetch the stone were to have figured much later on that a key was needed. And Vael, well, maybe she did want a bit more recognition and for him to take accountability for his vacuous mistake. 

So much for researching this matter as in depth as he claimed...

“And what happens now...with the stone?” 

“That is where my job begins. The work of the mind.” He says, tapping a finger to his temple as if Vael and Kaidan hadn’t used their minds from the moment they stepped foot in the ruins to the moment they stepped out. “It’s sadly undermined in Skyrim...” He adds, tutting to himself before turning away from them to begin his investigating. 

“Send me a copy of what you decipher when you’ve finished.” Vael and Kaidan are no longer needed, the woman speaking solely to Farengar now as she packs away her belongings. 

And so, they take their leave. They didn’t have to be dismissed to know when it was their cue. Bringing up the topic of the Word Wall wasn’t going to happen, either. Mostly because Vael doubts he’d even know of it and end up interrogating her for his own personal gain rather than to assist her. 

As they head into the Great Hall once more, the Jarl is descending from the staircase likely returning from his quarters. He welcomes them with extended arms a bright grin, a full bellied guffaw releasing from him before he clasps his hands together. 

“You’ve returned already! I just knew that the both of you would get the job done!” He needn’t any proof of the stone’s existence, apparently. 

He must trust in them as well as Farengar perhaps too much. But his response was expected, wasn’t it? A puffed chuckle falls from Vael’s lips, far too fatigued to muster anything as boisterous as his. Now that their hard work is recognized, she’s quick to shrug it off as though it’s nothing. Either of them might even feel a bit guilty to bring up payment at all. They know they would not be let to walk out the front doors without it, anyhow.

“We will certainly sleep well tonight.” She’s dreaming of shutting her eyes for longer than a blink. 

“You will...but not before you join me for this evening’s feast and regale your story. And only then can you head back to your rooms for the night.” The blond bargains, making his offer one that even Kaidan, who says he doesn’t want to stay within castle walls, cannot refuse. 

Vael looks to him and he looks to her, their silent decision brewing. He eventually sighs, giving in to the young woman who is in obvious need of a comfortable place to rest tonight. Kaidan can’t say he isn’t looking forward to a bed rather than a bedroll, himself. That, and his kitchen staff prepare the most wonderful of meals. 

“Yes. Yes of course, Jarl Balgruuf.” 

Delighted, he leaves them to their business of winding down which begins with the pair moseying toward their quarters, Vael every so often brushing against the cool iron of Kaidan’s armor. She doesn’t care to balance her weight evenly anymore, allowing herself to roam where she might. Peering out of the corner of his eye, Kaidan takes note. If he were not so used to days like these, he might have ended up the same as her. Fortunately and unfortunately for him, he’s accumulated a stamina to last him longer than the average person. 

“Easy now.” Warns Kaidan the next time Vael bumps into his side, not at all serious about reprimanding her for it. 

She must sense that too because the corner of her lips twitch. “Sorry,” She beings anyway, voice breathy, “talking to Farengar took up the last of my energy.” 

“Don’t blame you. The man is a tosser and his woman---”

“ _Careful_. She could be listening in.”

A joke as it is, the way she reacted to brashly to Kaidan and Vael was alarming, like she is paranoid of anyone and everyone who isn’t herself. Who are either of them to judge, though?

“Which is why I’ll be sticking it out in my room until I absolutely have to come out.” Gloved hand reaching for the handle of his door, he pulls it open, raring to shed his armor and release all he’s been holding for the past several hours. 

Smiling sleepily, Vael agrees, “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

“Let’s hope she’s not invited.”

ooo

At first, a bath called to her. And then, she laid eyes on her bed and decided on a whim to drop everything on her person from her knapsack to her sword. The last to come off were her boots, kicked away from her feet. They landed with a slight thud on the wooden planks of the floor. Rolling into the furs, Vael took herself a nap. An all too short, interrupted, but glorious nap. 

She was called to dinner what felt like not long after she finally shut her eyes. It was longer than a blink, at least. But dinner, now that she’s coming to, isn’t such a terrible thing to be woken up for. Eyes flicker, slow with sleep as they adjust. The sun’s last light is fully gone, no longer streaming through the window. Candles are being lit by a younger maid who Vael’s hues follow with each flame brought to the wicks before her tour ends and she settles by the door, finally laying eyes on the younger woman.

“Shall I shut this door, miss? Or will you be following after me?” 

Face half pressed into the bed, hair mussed and growing messier with the shake of her head against the fur, Vael’s pouted lips speak, “No, thank you. I will be down for dinner, shortly.” 

A curtsey, and Vael then pushes herself up, stretching the upper half of her body before swinging her feet over the side. She basks for another few moments as her fingers gently curl over the bed’s edge, lids coming to a gentle close once more. Vael is grateful, regardless of the situation she seems to have gotten herself and Kaidan into, for now. She’s got a bed to sleep in at least for tonight and a feast awaiting her downstairs after a long day of work. Finally, it feels like all of their travels are paying off.Quite literally, too. 

Putting herself together as best as her current state will allow, Vael sees herself into the hall, the aroma strong from even the stairs leading downward. There are no extra guests this evening, much to Vael’s, and she’s sure Kaidan’s, delight. The blonde witch of a woman is nowhere in sight and soon, she hopes by later this evening after their meal, nowhere in mind.

Vael takes a strategic seat at the long table, far enough away from the Jarl’s children to keep from their food throwing and drink spilling incidents that really were anything but. If this is their last evening in the castle, Vael wants it to be an enjoyable one. Joining her at the seat to her right is Kaidan who has decided to dress down for dinner, his armor left upstairs. Suddenly, she feels out of place due to her own poor decision of not only foregoing a bath, but keeping her leather armor on. Perhaps the Jarl, or anyone else for that matter, wouldn’t think anything of it. It was a gift, after all. And she is going to treasure it. He might as well take it as a compliment that she hasn’t taken it off. 

As always, she’s overthinking because not a soul, not even the Jarl, says a thing or even so much as sends a peculiar look her way when everyone arrives at the table and the feast begins. The brunette hadn’t realized until the moment a piquant bite of venison meat practically melts in her mouth just how hungry she is. She’s almost ashamed and guilty to admit that no meal of Elynea’s can compare to the banquet Dragonsreach staff prepares. Needless to say that when the Jarl speaks, she’s caught off guard while revelling in the splendid flavors, swallowing down her food a bit harsher than she would have liked. 

“Would you care to tell us all of your adventure?” Prompts the Jarl, cup lifted to be filled with the finest of wine by the male servant. “I heard the legends of Bleak Falls Barrow but have never made the pilgrimage myself.”

Vael looks to Kaidan to see if he’d like to speak first which, in itself, was a silly thought. He had also taken a conveniently timed mouthful of potatoes, deeming himself unfit to speak for the next however many seconds. The man bobs his head slightly, giving her the go ahead for speaking on both of their behalves. There is a pregnant pause shared between the two of them before Vael finally returns her attention to Jarl Balgruuf/ 

“It was... _cold_. There was a storm that began not too far up the mountain and continuously worsened the higher we got. I remember seeing nothing but white and Kaidan here at my side.” 

“During the summer, the barrow is much easily seen from down here. Tell me, what was it like the moment you first saw its arches? Were they even more magnificent up close?” Balgruuf leans forward now, propping his chin upon his laced fingers. As a Jarl and a Nordic one at that, Nordic history must means a great deal to him. 

“They were.” Vael concurs, voice breathy at the still fresh memory. “They were so tall that they disappeared into the clouds. And the detailed carvings were like nothing I’ve ever seen before in my life.”

“Would have been a treat to take our time to look at them. Bandits overtook the whole place from the outside in. Took them all out, though.” Kaidan interjects, uncaring of how his full mouth impedes on the clarity of his words. 

The Jarl shakes his head, pressing his lips to his fingers while dismay rests plainly on his face. 

“The disrespect...” He mutters

Kaidan’s jaw slows as he observes the man, wondering momentarily if he had said something wrong. Vael ceases to move as well, wishing she were in a better position to see Kaidan from the corner of her eye. 

“Let me be frank when I say that you both did right by my hold to get rid of them. True people of Skyrim deserve to have their ruins and temples and historic landmarks upheld and not overrun with scum. These bandits and outlaws are nothing new, but they are certainly a growing breed.” 

Relief washes over them in abundance, Vael’s already tense and sore muscles relaxing into the wooden chair before she reaches for her chalice to take a very long drink of wine. Kaidan, who, as relaxed as he seems, looks a bit regretful of going against himself to open his mouth. If the Jarl had any issue with what he thought Kaidan was already getting up to as far as mercenary work went, he would have thrown him in the brig rather than letting him stay in his home and pick up work from his court wizard. But Kaidan is the first to admit that political figures are the most morally corrupt of them all. 

Seizing the opportunity to control the conversation, and to satiate her own need to know, Vael asks, “Jarl Balgruuf, would you happen to know anything of Nordic Word Walls?"

He stares at her for a long moment, head tilting and a thick brow cocked in a curious manner. “Did you come across one in the ruin?” 

There is something cryptic about the way he poses his query. So much so that Vael is almost reluctant to answer even though she was the one to bring up the subject.

"Yes.”

Slowly does he nod his head, a response brewing in his head before he makes to say, “They are not uncommon in Skyrim. They were constructed by the Nords of old, carved in them words of Dragon language. Whether out of fear or respect, the Nords used the walls to learn and teach the language.” Explains the man as he leans back into his chair, elbows resting upon the arms. Vael feels there is more to come from the Jarl. his ring covered pointer fingers are pointed upwards as if to signal just that. Nerves bubble in the pit of her stomach

“But not just anyone could learn the language of the Dragon. No...only those who possessed the ability to learn it could.”

It’s quite a simple concept, isn’t it? Much like any other language, one had to be able to comprehend it in order to learn it and teach it. Yet, Vael feels there is room for expansion. As she had an experience with the Word Wall that Kaidan did not. Was the ability he spoke of more than just ones natural inclination of cognition?

She opens her mouth to speak further on the topic, but is interrupted by a blood curdling shout coming from the Dragonsreach entryway, the grand wooden doors thrown open and from them, toward them, runs a a guard. He’s bewildered, out of breath. Kaidan stands abruptly from his chair out of instinct, shaking the table in the process. The Jarl mimics his action in that very same moment. Irileth, who had been standing in the corner all the while, hurries to the Jarl’s side. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Balgruuf inquires in a thunderous shout. Surprisingly, he’s not at all angered. His tone is of fear and concern.

“Dragon!” He barks, using what’s left of the breath he sucked in. “D-dragon by the watchtower!” 

The most eerie of silence falls over the whole of Dragonsreach. Not even the children make a peep, reduced to just that; children. They are no longer sassing their elders or chucking food about. They are frightened beyond belief. Even more unnerving the fact that their father, the Jarl of this hold, is as pale as a ghost. He holds many powers, but control over dragons is not one of them. He turns to Irileth, sharing a look with her. 

“Come with me. I want you to tell me everything you know. Evangeline---” The elder woman stands at attention, taking the Jarl’s call of her name as direction to mind the children. 

Meal all but forgotten among the chaos, Balgruuf starts toward the strategy room just up the stairs before the entrance to the personal quarters. Irileth guides her soldier forward, Proventus following soon thereafter while the children are escorted elsewhere by Evangeline, the children’s nursemaid, with promises of baths and bedtime stories to coax them along. 

Vael stands slowly from her spot, finding Kaidan’s eyes are she stares up at him. His face is mixture of emotions, probably an outward display of what’s going on internally. She doesn’t blame him as she’s experiencing the very same thing. 

“You both should come along as well.” Irileth suggests. Though, her tone of voice would insinuate that it’s less of a suggestion and more of an order. They follow without question behind the iron woman.

Looming over the large table in the back portion of the space is Balgruuf, the a map of Skyrim and all of its locations the center his attention. The soldier stands beside him, quivering as he places his helmet off to the corner of the workspace.

“From where did the dragon come, boy?” 

A trembling hand reaches to motion on the map. “We saw it coming from the south. From the border it looked to be. It was...it was faster than anything I’ve ever seen.”

The dragon from days prior had flown into the southeast, the Rift, as Kaidan had told her. It would not have been such a far out idea that it was the same dragon. But it begs the question; if the dragon is coming from the border of Skyrim, is it truly an issue that only Skyrim is facing? It’s been bothering Vael for days now, wondering if Solstheim had been under siege of the beast. 

“What did it do? Is it attacking the tower?” Presses Jarl Balgruuf, wanting to know if there is eminent danger occuring and just how quickly they should act.

“No! No, the beast was just circling overhead. The rest of the men stuck behind to keep watch on it while I ran here. I’ve never ran so fast in my life.” 

They have time...but how much? All it would take is a blow of its fiery breath to begin destruction. 

“You, son, head down to the barracks to get your bearings.” Proventus ushers the young man away, his fear having shaken him to the core. Vael would be lying if she were to say she was any less afraid because she had yet to even lay eyes on this dragon. But she has laid eyes on a dragon and it was terrifying. 

“Irileth, we must send more men to the watchtower. And you must know that this is not a death or glory mission. I need to know what we are dealing with. Make sure you return to me alive and with every detail you can possibly find. 

“I will order my men to meet at the main gate and we will destroy this dragon. I will not fail you, my Jarl.” Irileth confirms with a stiff nod of her head before seeing herself off.

Where Irileth steps away, comes footsteps much quicker than her own, rushed as they take on the staircase. Farengar enters, the news of the dragon brought to his attention. Unless he still hasn’t the faintest clue and actually managed to find something constructive in the stone. But the Jarl doesn’t make to acknowledge the man just yet. 

Turning his attention to face Vael and Kaidan, who have been off to the side simply watching the events take place, the Jarl looks most gravely at them. “My friends, I must ask your help once more. It has been brought to my attention that there may be more than just one dragon wreaking havoc in Skyrim. You know what the dragon from Helgen looks like. I would ask you to go to the watchtower and find out if this is true. If this dragon differs from the one that attacked Helgen.” His bright blue eyes plead with them, as if he is but a regular man in need of help. 

The request sends Vael’s heart into a frenzy, the notion of willingly stepping foot into the flat lands in search of a dragon only to see if it’s the same dragon as before practically a suicide mission. Kaidan, who is far better trained than Vael, isn’t too keen on the idea, either. The pair look between one another and the Jarl, unable to come to a unanimous decision on whether or not to help him once more. Balgruuf has more burden than either of them resting on his shoulders than the rest of them, doesn’t he...he has a hold to protect and very few of his protective enforcements know of dragons. And the most educated on the matter of all of them speaks up before Kaidan or Vael has a chance to.

“I should come along as well, my lord. I would very much like to see this dragon for myself---”

A calloused hand is raised to silence the wizard. “No. I cannot risk you, Farengar. I need you here figuring out ways to defend the city from the dragons.”

Disappointed as Farengar looks, he agrees with his Jarl. He’s likely tickled pink that he’s considered more important than the both of them combined which is why he doesn’t put up an argument as to why he should be on the frontlines. “As you command.”

Farengar glances at them a bit too long as he passes, earning a clenched jaw from Kaidan. Perhaps if the city’s infrastructure had been built with the intent of actually protecting itself and its inhabitants, then Farengar could have gone, Kaidan thinks bitterly. Yes, he’d much rather send Farengar to fend off the dragon than risk his own skin. But the warrior in him itches for his armor and to draw a blade. For Vael, he cannot, and would not dare, say the same.

“Jarl Balgruuf, we’ve never actually _fought_ a dragon. We only saw it flying over the mountains from Helgen!” The young woman is flustered, put on the spot. Treading into the barrow is not comparable to running straight into battle with a dragon. Though the ruin was full of uncertainties and enemies, they were not too dissimilar from things she’s handled before. Fighting dragon is a whole new concept.

“Precisely! You have seen it. And if we don’t know how many dragons we’re dealing with, we won’t know how to deal with this situation. Kaidan---” The Jarl flashes his pitch toward him, “What say you? You are a strong warrior, are you not? You two together conquered Bleak Falls Barrow.”

From the get-go, Kaidan had left the decision making up to Vael for the most part. He would never drag her into a battle she was not willing to fight. But they were involved now. More than he cared to be in the first place. As much as he wanted to deny himself attachment and not care about the opinion of others, part of him still craves validation for what he is good at, what he has practiced all his life. Vael’s reasons for helping might have been far more selfless. 

“I’ll go to the watchtower. Can’t say for sure if I’ll be able to distinguish the dragon in the dark, but I’ll do my best.” Vael is taken aback by Kaidan’s answer, staring with wide eyes and parted lips in disbelief as the Jarl, pleased, pats him firmly on the back and wishing him well for doing his part as a citizen of Skyrim. 

Kaidan hardly spares Vael a glance as he makes to head toward his room to gather his gear. Vael follows after him in quicker steps to match his long strides. 

“Are you crazy?”

“Dragons are taking over the land, anyway. Might as well get used to them flying overhead and roasting everything in their path.” His response contains an unwarranted amount of vexation and Vael can’t tell if it’s for agreeing to do this or for her. Still, she follows on his heels.

They reach his room, Kaidan placing his armor back onto his body like a second skin. Vael watches from the doorway, unable to keep still on her feet as an endless stream of thoughts plow through her head. She fidgets and it does little to draw Kaidan’s eye who is solely focused on preparing for battle. It’s hard to keep positive when his logic is most likely the case. But they can’t say for certain if multiple dragons threaten Skyrim or if it’s just one. One that, if properly ready for, can be taken down.

“We don’t know if there are more dragons, Kaidan. It could very well be the same from Helgen!” 

“Which is why I’m going to find out _myself_.” It feels like a personal jibe at her which, in turn, is the catalyst for what she’s about to say.

“You’re not going _yourself_. I’m coming with you.” 

Before Kaidan has a chance to disagree, she starts off across the hall to fetch her own things, latching her sword to her hip. She hadn’t given this decision any actual thought but Kaidan going without her didn’t sit well in her gut. It unsettles her more than potentially fighting a dragon.

“What were you saying about crazy?” Kaidan quirks a brow, obviously relishing in her quick change of heart, pulling his brace over his forearm. 

“You’re crazy for agreeing to go. And I’d be crazy, ” she pauses, mocking his exact movement, bracer and all, “if I let you go without me.”

ooo

They hurry though the emptying streets of Whiterun, gaining stares from the few concerned citizens who have likely already seen the plethora of guards leaving the city. And if not seen them with their own eyes, then heard with their ears the news of just why they were leaving at all. If Vael were them, if she were any the smarter, she might have just taken shelter inside of the comfort of her home. That was never an option. Because she isn’t ignorant to what’s going on. Nor can she say that ignorance would be bliss. 

By the time they reach the outskirts of the watchtower, even before because of just how vapid the terrain is, it is up in flames, half of the western end obliterated. Incredible and disturbing how quickly a dragon can work. If it had so desired it, the entire tower would have been burned to the ground. 

“Has the dragon already attacked? Where is it?” Vael rushes toward Irileth who stands with her men, swords drawn and on edge. 

“There is no sign of the dragon...but it sure looks like it’s already been here.” The woman mutters. “I know it looks bad, but we’ve got to investigate. The dragon could still be skulking around somewhere” She says, vision scanning about skeptically. “Check the surrounding area for survivors! ” Her order is shouted before she heads off in cautious stance. 

“Stay close to me and keep your eyes peeled.” Vael and Kaidan take their own route toward the tower itself, the briged entryway cracked and crumbling, but not entirely impossible to climb.

If not for the flames lighting the vicinity, they wouldn’t be able to see a damned thing. It was lucky and unlucky all at once. 

“We have to go in and see if anyone is inside.” Vael makes to reach for the stone edge to lift herself when Kaidan practically pulls her back. 

“Don’t think for a second that tower is stable enough! It could come down at any second.” Hisses the man. 

Vael opens her mouth to argue her rational when another voice chimes in. “No! Stay back!” Nearly giving herself whiplash in the process, Vael turns to find a soldier poking his head out from the watchtower’s entrance, trepidation plastered on his barely lit face. “It’s already grabbed two of us from the ground with its talons!” He’s tremoring, drenched in tears, sweat and blood. 

Sympathy for the broken man her. Her need to help him overwhelming just as her need to help the burned man in Helgen was. Yes, this was yet another reason, other than not leaving Kaidan to do it himself, that she knew she had to come. “It’s alright, we’ve brought backup.” Vael assures him, continuing her scaling of the ruptured walkway. Kaidan is quick to place a hand on her shoulder once again.

“Vael, ” He beseeches.

“Kaidan, either help me up or unhand me.” The ultimatum throws Kaidan, her tone sharp and serious. Rolling his jaw, something of a growl, a huff and a grumbled _stubborn woman_ releases from his chest before he forcefully hoists Vael the remainder of the way until she can stand and near the injured soldier. Meanwhile, Kaidan maintains a wary position outside of the tower, keeping an eye out for the skies and for Vael behind him.

“I told you to stay back! This place could come crashing down.” Through clenched teeth does he speak. Vael only kneels down at his side. 

“You are foolish, girl.” The man whimpers as she takes hold of his bloodied arm, examining it for fatal injury. 

“I’m not the one refusing help. Now, are you bleeding anywhere else?” She asks, searching for a strip of leather or cloth she could tear to act as a bandage since she hadn’t thought ahead to bring any sort of potions. There really was no time to doddle. 

“Leg.” 

His leg is much worse off than his arm. Pausing, and she knows she can’t take too long, she searches the room briefly for anything she could use. A lantern leaks, it’s iridescent fuel migrating through the stone’s cracks and divots, beside the lantern, a bedroll that resides in the corner by the stairs. She crawls across the floor, reaching out for it, pulling a dagger from the man’s waist belt, cutting a strip of fabric and using it to wrap tightly around his arm first, then cutting a second for his calf. He silibates the moment the rough fabric brushes his tender flesh. And if Vael weren’t ensuring he didn’t bleed any more than he had to, she would have felt more guilt.

“Can you walk? If you don’t think it’s safe for me to be in here, then it isn’t safe for you, either.” Standing, she helps him up along with her, carrying the weight he can’t support. 

“Wait---my grandfather’s bow. I left it at the top of the tower. Will you please get it for me? I can’t use my sword, but if it comes back around, I can use my arrows.” 

Hesitantly, Vael nods her head, seeing to it that the man is safely brought to the ground with the help of fellow soldiers who have closed in on the area. Once he’s in good hands, she starts back into the tower, earning a shout from Kaidan. 

“Oi! Why are you going back?” Frustration coats his voice, even more so in his expression. 

“I’ll be out soon, I promise!” 

Following in after her are two more guards who Kaidan doesn’t say a word to. He can't and won't gatekeep everyone that wishes to enter. The only person he's most adamant on keeping out of there is Vael, anyway. theory, he could head up there and drag her down himself, but she’d come down kicking and screaming. He would have to trust her judgement and the strength of the tower in the meantime. 

Jogging up the stairs is tricky feat, halfway up, the wall is blown out and still flaming, the stairs partially blockaded by stone. What shocks her more than the damage are the sound of more footsteps and mentions of a catapult. _Well, that is most convenient._ As the guards pass her, she trails right behind them into the open roof of the tower from which a great deal of the hold can be viewed. But there isn’t enough light to see nor does it matter now as the only thing she is in search of is a bow and likely arrows, too. Off to the side are those very same guards, tugging and rolling a catapult, readying it for whatever may come. 

Setting her sights on the bow that leans against the short wall of the roof, Vael grabs it along with the quiver, throwing them over her shoulder and hurrying back down the stairs. Just as she reaches the walkway does the warning come that the dragon is returning. 

“Here it comes again!” An unknown voice yells, rendering a location of the dragon unfindable. 

It’s roar is the first inkling of its arrival. Except, there is no echo this time as it’s growing closer and not farther. But from which way it’s coming, Vael cannot grasp as she frantically looks above into the night sky, frozen in her spot just waiting for the dragon to make an appearance. 

“Vael, get down!” Kaidan yells, bow drawn and arrows ready to shoot. Vael, finally, does as she’s told, leaping from the heightened stone and landing among the tall grass. 

And as she steadies her footing, the heavy gust of wind brought on by the flapping of broad wings nearly knocks her over. The dragon flies overhead, over the tower and over almost all of the soldiers in one solid swoop. From some ways away, Vael can hear Irileth’s order to fire on the beast and make each arrow count. Arrows, fling forward to strike the beast that continues to move, making their target difficult to hit despite how big of a target it is. 

It isn’t too dark to tell, however, that this dragon differs from the one that annahaliated Helgen. It’s lighter in hue and thinner as well. But even though she’s come to that conclusion, it does nothing to lessen her fear. And they have no choice but to fight now. 

“My bow!” Pulling her mortified gaze away is the injured man who hobbles toward her, reaching out for his bow and arrows. She willingly, hurriedly, hands them over to him. He fumbles, but he’s a better marksman than she is currently. Not even her blade can be of any use from down here. 

The only option left is magika. 

At first, her hands call for fire. That is, until, balls of flames launch across the sky at the dragon. The catapult is being put to good use by the men who had infiltrated their burning watchtower. Was there any sense of fighting a dragon with fire when it produced it from its own insides? 

As it circles about, the piercing shriek and hellfire setting the dry land ablaze, she thinks perhaps not. Fingers then crackle with the creation of ice, sparing no time before shooting larger shards in the direction of the creature who catches them with his opened mouth, their frozen state reduced to liquid from his hot breath. That seemed to have done no better and no worse than the arrows. 

He devours them, too, pausing to hover mid air as thought to taunt all of them, to show them that their pathetic arrows do little to penetrate his thick scales. In fact, it really does become a game, a sound like a laugh bubbling within its form as it actively tries to catch the arrows in its mouth, snapping them with its teeth and spitting them back to the ground to prove that they are not going to bring him any harm. Not even the heftier of objects being used in defense of the dragon, catapulted through the sky, were being batted away with the sharp whips of its tail or crunched also with its teeth and even so much as swallowing the jagged pieces with ease. It was not fearful and that is the most frightening part.

Panicking in the middle of the field while all continues to burn around her, Vael can’t even fathom just how the dragons were defeated before. Surely humanity has evolved in their technology since then. Surely it would be easier to defeat a dragon now than it would have been however many years ago. Apparently, her trust in the growth of society and protection of society has been sorely overestimated. 

The question still remains; how is a dragon defeated? 

Upon the watchtower, two men continue their efforts in taking down the beast with flames, dousing their articles for launching in...

It comes to her then, the flashback of not ten minutes prior inside of the tower when she searched for a way to stop the man’s bleeding and first laid eyes on the leaking liquid coming from the lanter. The very same liquid Kaidan had warned her of inside of the barrow earlier that day. 

“Kaidan! Keep shooting your arrows. Keep provoking it!” She yells, running in the opposite direction of him. His concern doesn’t falter even as he continues to shoot his arrows, swiftly looking back and forth between Vael and the dragon.

“Where are you going?!” 

“Whatever you do, stay as far back as you can! I’ve got an idea!” 

He won’t like to sight of her climbing back up and into the tower. She does it anyway, disregarding what he’s telling her. They have no time to waste. They never did. And soon, the dragon will grow tired of games and take them all out. She reaches the roof in hopes that there is a bracket left in which the dragon will entertain them in play so that she can quickly explain her unplanned plan to the guards that may or may not even work.

“Wait! Wait just a moment. I’ve got an idea!” Vael announces, speaking faster than her brain can keep up with. The men turn toward one another and then back to her, both holding the next of their loads for the catapult. 

“Your lantern fuel, have you got more of it? Preferably in a container or sorts?” 

One guard nods as a gesture toward the left of Vael just behind her. “We keep several here at all times. Just over there. Lids are a bitch to get off, though.” He explains, setting down the objects in his hands. 

The brunette shakes her head, loose strands of hair sticking to her sweaty face. “No, that’s good. We have to load them into the catapult. Nothing else we’re throwing the dragon’s way is working but I think...I think this could work. Will you help me?” 

“We’ll try anything at this rate.” 

Thankful for their team effort, they begin to load a few of the containers of fluid on at a time, leaving enough so that, if need be, they have multiple tries. Before they make their first attempt, one of the guards warns those below, whoever can hear and whoever is willing to listen, to take cover. And after the longest moment they can afford to give anyone who heard a head start, they fire. 

Across the sky flies three jars of fuel so potent that even a dragon should fear it. And as smart of funny as this dragon believes itself to be, he will soon find that his games are to come to an end. The dragon, as Vael had hoped, awaits with its mouth agape to catch the weaponized liquids, swallowing them whole. 

It would be its last mistake after attacking Whiterun Hold. 

Arrows continue to cast and Vael thinks that maybe no one has any idea what they’ve just done. The three of them and perhaps even Kaidan, wait with baited breath. 

Then, dragon implodes where it levitates, pieces of its insides splattering and it cries in agony, beys that are sure to be heard from here to Whiterun and beyond. If it were any other beast, one of lesser threat, she may have felt pity toward it. But as it falls apart and drops from above, as writhes and finally makes impact with the ground, leaving a a crater in the ground and practically digging its own grave, she feels nothing but relief as she herself falls to the ground of the roof to take cover. 

She doesn’t know how long she waits with her arms acting as a shield over her head and her eyes scrunched tightly shut. The first thought that pops into her head is of Kaidan. Which causes Vael to jump up from where she took refuge on the ground to descend the stairs of the tower. The dragon is defeated, but it would only be a success to her, it would have only been worth it all, if Kaidan survived. Desperately to her eyes search the fields for him. And when she sets her sights on him, alive and already running her way, she vaults from the platform and bounds toward him.

“You’re bloody insane, d’you know that?” Are the first words he says to her, grasping her arms tightly as they near one another to keep from colliding. 

Panting, Vael beams, elated to see him well and unharmed. “I wouldn’t have had that idea had you not warned me about the lantern fluid!” It would be wrong not to credit him. 

“You...lantern fluid, eh? Brilliant. Insane, but fuckin'... _incredible_.” He breathes, marveling at her. 

From all angles of them are guards nearing the creature’s body, voicing their amazement at its features closer up as none of them had ever seen such a thing. No stories of old or drawings could ever convey all of the details. It was a miracle, or rather, quick thinking, that had allowed them this experience. Even if the dragon had been partially mutilated by said quick thinking and currently burning, it is just as remarkable. 

“It’s not so scary.” The comment comes from the man who Vael had aided earlier, limping toward it with caution.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause it’s dead, Torin.” A second voice scoffs, a voice belonging to another man who has the injured by his waist to keep him from falling.

“What is happening to it?” A question not so intimidating and easily answered by inferring from what had just occurred. Until seen with one's own eyes, at least. 

Pulled from her reunion with Kaidan, the two of them bring their awareness to the dragon’s blazing corpse. Where it was once believed the dragon’s scales were impenetrable, they begin to flake away like they are nothing more than burning parchment, dissipating into the atmosphere. Vael steps forward, entranced by what she sees, eyes narrowed and brows knitted tightly together. Kaidan is no less interested as he trails in back of her. Neither can say they know what is and isn’t normal about the decomposition of a dragon, but this doesn’t seem right. 

Nor does the return of dragons as a general thought. 

It’s when the debris ascends into the sky, stripping away all of the dragon’s layers until it is but a mere skeleton on the ground that they realize this is not natural. Light begins to emit from the bones, coming forth in tendrils, the beams swishing as they move, making their way toward Vael and Kaidan. The guards jump back, steering clear of the rays that seem to have a mind of their own. 

Vael too backs away, bumping into Kaidan in the process. But she isn’t quick enough to escape them as they engulf her, as they invade her, all while she still has control over her body. There is no pain, only a tingling that erupts over her skin, a sensation that she has never felt in her lifetime. It is neither good nor bad, it just is. And as unpetrified as her body is, her mind is bewitched by the lights that seem to disappear inside of her, as thought she’s absorbing them until they are gone and all that is left is unmistakable fear in her eyes and incredulity in the ones around her. 

“I can’t believe it!” Finally, someone speaks up to drown out the ringing in Vael’s ears. Her vision adheres to the man who places a hand over his heart, in awe where she is uneasy. 

“You’re... _Dragonborn_.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's the 10th chapter! vael is...not a happy camper about all this lol. ALSO, no new title...yet. emphasis on YET. there will be one when i can get my shit together LMAO. 
> 
> thank you for tuning back in and reading <3 your comments and support fuel me!

“ _Dragonborn_?” 

What seems like a millenia passes before Vael can strike up the ability to speak. The absorption of the light tendrils had stolen her breath away for the simple fact that it was a phenomena that she had never known possible to occur. The guard, on the other hand, apparently knew what had happened to Vael and even so much as dubbed her. The young woman doesn’t know whether it makes her feel any less perturbed. Especially when she considers that, despite how plain the word is, how fitting of the situation, it is still a foreign term; **_Dragonborn_**.

The man, awed by what he has witnessed, removes his helmet to step closer. With Kaidan firm as a mountain at her side, she doesn’t make to cower. 

“You do not know the tale of the Dragonborn?” Murmurs the soldier, as though it is a tale that, by birthright, anyone who breathes knows or must know of this legend. Not Vael. Not the half Dunmer, half Nord, half Breed who lived on the beaches of Tel Mithryn, bound to an island far from Skyrim. Who was raised loosely on the belief system of the Telvanni peoples. She may not claim those beliefs as her own, but they are what she knows better than any Nordic history. If her father had been present in her life, perhaps she would not be so clueless. Then again, perhaps she would have never ended up here at all. 

So, why would she know of such a thing?

“Dragonborn is the slayer of dragons. And after he or she slays a dragon, they steal its soul.” Kill a dragon, take its soul. Yes, it does sound like a simple enough concept; an action and a consequence. Yet, she can’t wrap her head around how she got stuck with a dragon soul when, not fifteen minutes prior, she could not even hold her own against this dragon. If there were no one else around to pick up slack where Vael lacks as a mage and a warrior, she would have likely been burned to a crisp! She decides then, when it feels like a dagger is being plunged multiple times into her gut, that she doesn’t like this newly given title at all. 

When she doesn’t reply verbally, the man continues to ask, a great deal curious, “That’s what you did, isn’t it? Stole the dragon’s soul?” 

Put off by the query more so than anything else being discussed, it’s because she can’t give him an answer. He had been the one to cry Dragonborn, not Vael! As if she just knew why the dragon’s skin melted away or why the lights streaming from its being sought after Vael and took shelter within her, leaving her not in pain, but worry. 

“Enough! Don’t frighten the girl.” Comes the voice of Irileth to break up their, what she considers to be, nonsense. They had just destroyed a dragon, after all! And here her men were, standing about its corpse talking of legends. 

“Do you not believe in the Dragonborn, Housecarl?” 

“She helped take down a dragon. That’s enough for me. Now we know that we can kill them.” Her reply fades the closer she gets to the dragon bones, crouching down to look it in its vacant eye sockets. 

If eyes are said to be the windows of the soul, then Irileth might as well stare into Vael’s should she want to let it be known to the dragon that its kind will fall to the weapons of humanity before it, or any others, attempt to destroy another part of their land. Which reminds Vael that she’s to report back to the Jarl...to let him know that this dragon was not the same as the one that attacked Helgen. Which means that there are more. And if she is to slay them...

Now she feels a bit ill, lightheaded, as she rotates toward the armored man whose arms are at the ready to catch her should she faint. 

“No, you don’t. Come on---” Kaidan throws his arm around Vael’s middle, her wobbling knees not strong enough to to make it back to Whiterun on their own. 

The last Vael can make out of Irileth’s orders are muffled as they head north toward the city.by the forceful blood pumping in her ears. Shallow breaths are all she can muster as Kaidan carries his weight and the majority of hers up the path. As they pass the stables, no horses are in sight, likely brought into the city on special orders. If she could manage thoughts of anything but what had just occurred, then she might have worried for Merry’s wellbeing. For now, she’s trying to stabilize her own. 

All Kaidan has to say to the new guards posted at the main gates is that they come from the watchtower. It’s also quite clear that Vael is not well and any humane being would let them through. 

“Almost there, now.” Reassured by Kaidan, she finds it in her to trek the stairs leading to the Cloud District, beneath the shedding tree and up another set of stairs until they reach their destination, the doors opened for them to make entry. 

“By Ysmir! Have you been injured?” The Jarl’s voice bounds through the Great Hall as he peers around a burly man from his throne, standing to meet them where they shared dinner not much earlier. Kaidan assists Vael in sitting down, her head shaking as the Jarl nears them, 

“No, I’m---”

“Tell me of the dragon! What happened?!” She’s not said five words, obviously shaken and Balgruuf can’t give her a moment before exhorting her. Kaidan, caring not about who the Jarl is, steps between he and Vael so he’s aware that she requires space if she’s going to regain the energy to tell him what he craves to know. The blond, out of courtesy, gives Vael just that. 

“The watchtower was destroyed. The dragon was nowhere in sight when we arrived but then it circled around for a second go at us. We took it out. Well...Vael had a lot to do with that.” Kaidan explains for her so that he can stall for a few moments more of rest. 

“And was it the same dragon that you saw before?” 

“No. This dragon was smaller, lighter in color. Which means---” She needn’t finish her sentence, for the trailing off confirms their worries. 

“That there are more.” Soft is his timbre, but abundant in shock are his words. “It is as we feared.” Turning on his heels, a hand strays to his mouth, swiping his fingers along the outer rim of his lips and down to his tied beard, stroking the coarse hair.

“Brother,” The man, now that they’re closer, looks not far off from being the Jarl’s twin. Tall but bulkier, light haired, light eyed and a face much akin to Balgruuf’s, it makes entire sense that he calls him _brother_. “This is Nordic prophecy. The return of dragons was bound to happen.” 

If Vael were Jarl, she would hope that the return of dragons would not happen in her lifetime. Especially if she were responsible for keeping many lives safe from these dragons. 

_Oh, wait..._

“Jarl Balgruuf there is more!” 

Swiftly does the man turn, optics burning a hole into her head as he pleads silently for her to continue. Vael stands from the chair, gathering the courage to elaborate. What’s most difficult is not NOT wanting to tell him, but finding the words to articulate what happened. 

“When the dragon died, I...it’s soul...it absorbed into my body in the form of lights. And I didn’t know what was happening until one of Irileth’s men told me. He called me---”

“Dragonborn.” 

Beneath thick brows are widened eyes, their color bright and filling with at the brim with tears that would not spill. Even his brother had fallen silent, his only ability to stare at Vael just at the soldiers had. And she stares right back. 

“Yes. Yes, exactly.” Concedes the young woman in trembling tone.

After several moments of acute gaping, the Jarl’s eyes avert slowly downward, head bobbing as he takes in this new information. It’s more to handle than dragons themselves the notion that he is, and has been, in the presence of Dragonborn for days without either of them realizing it. 

“Tell him what happened with the Word Wall.” Coaxes Kaidan gently as he leans in closer to her, encouraging her to disclose any information she has so that she can gain the answers she deserves.

They had spoken briefly of the wall at dinner, and while the experience was also peculiar, it wasn’t comparable to that of absorbing the soul of a dragon. Balgruuf must overhear Kaidan because he returns his attention to her once more. 

“The Word Wall from Bleak Falls Barrow?” He makes to verify the wall. 

“The very same.” 

“Could you read the wall, girl? Could you understand the dragon language carved into the stone?” 

She recollects the trance she fell into, the chanting of the voices, and more spindly lights that drew her in and clouded any outside distractions. Credence that Vael knows the word she read like it is a word she learned as a girl and used in everyday life until this point in time is embedded in the core of her being. And so, she nods her head. 

Then, his expression shifts to that of skepticism.

“The true Dragonborn has a Thu’um so powerful that it can be used as a weapon against the dragons. You have not used your voice to speak that word, yet. If you had, we would have heard it even from here.”

Suddenly, Vael feels as though he doesn’t believe her. But why would she lie when just that same day, she hadn’t known what a Dragonborn was? What gain, other than personal responsibility to slay dragons, would adopting such a false narrative give her? As the Jarl begins to walk back in the direction of his throne, Vael follows in suit, Kaidan just behind her to ensure she doesn’t provoke the Jarl who is already on the brink.

“I’m not lying! Until tonight, I had no idea the concept of Dragonborn even existed. How can I use a power I didn’t realize I had?” Argues Vael and quite heatedly, too. 

“I saw her absorb the soul with my very own eyes. You can even ask every one of the men who survived the attack what they saw. They’ll tell you all the same.” Kaidan is quick to add sources if he and Vael’s accounts are not enough. He could easily verify with the men he has entrusted to protect his hold. 

The most surprising interjection of all, to the Jarl especially, is his brother’s. 

“The return of dragons cannot happen without the return of a Dragonborn. It is not the way of our culture!” 

“I will not hear another word of this now! There are more pressing matters to be dealt with!” Bellows the man, teeth bared as he scans them all with glares. It’s apparent how distressed he is, but this is not the same Jarl that had shown she and Kaidan much kindness of the past few days. Not only does the Jarl underestimate Vael’s truth, but he must also underestimate how taxed she is herself. 

Frustration turns to fury in a short amount of time. Her fists are balled at her sides, body shaking not from fear or nerves as it had before and her jaw is clenched so tightly that she could fracture her teeth if she were to clamp down any farther. He cannot speak for her or what she has undergone. He is a Jarl, not an all knowing Divine. Vael refuses to be left unheard and silenced right now! It only proves to vex her further when he turns his back on them all in favor of plopping into his throne. 

He doesn’t make it to his throne faster than Vael can open her mouth.

“FUS!” 

From somewhere inside of her torso, behind the bones of her ribcage that cannot contain it any longer, comes a short, but fierce shout that carries more in its effect than in the word itself. This word, this small word, packs tens of thousands of punches all thrown by hands of steel. It would not suffice to say that Great Hall tremored alone because the whole of Dragonsreach shook, tables, chairs, banners, objects and people thrown by the vibrations.

It isn’t until the dishes quit jingling that she registers what she’s done. The Jarl suspects that it was purposeful her shout, but he comes to find soon when he turns back around in his hunched stance that he’s met with the same expression of horror upon Vael’s features that he wears on his own. Quivering fingers shoot up to cover her parted lips, as if they could do much to keep her from shouting again. Balgruuf is in too astonished a state to call off his guards that begin to apprehend Vael and in turn, Kaidan, who sought to protect her, ending with the pair wriggling in their holds. They threaten Kaidan with a dagger pressed into the flesh of his neck. Vael had brought harm to the Jarl and his castle, the guards were only doing as they are conditioned. 

“Release them.” He orders finally, breathlessly as he straightens, then ultimately, slumps into his throne and propping his head on his palm. 

Vael is liberated from the rough hold, the dagger removed from Kaidan’s neck but not without a shove in the back to let him know that he is only safe because the Jarl bid it so. 

Swallowing thickly, Vael inches forward, gauging this new disposition. The spectral stillness that has fallen over the castle is unnerving in collation to the bark she set loose seconds prior. Something is not yet clicking, however. No one is making to speak a word. What would anyone say?

Wishes for a break in the quietude come by way of a thunderous crack! Such a sound would elicit a flinch but since they are all on on edge, not a single one of them doesn’t jump and isn’t terrified when what they initially thought to be a storm once again shakes the castle, tumultuous voices reverbing, their message unclear and their whereabouts unknown. It’s silly to look around at her surroundings, isn’t is? Even if Kaidan is doing the same in search of who is speaking to them now. 

The guards had been watching, at the ready to take Vael down at the slightest inkling that is was her that is to blame for this second quake. She is not. 

And the Jarl is the first to point this out while his eyes roam the high arched ceilings of the hall in a drawn out utterance. “The Greybeards...” 

“Beg pardon?” Whispers the brunette, who wants now only for straight explanations if they’re able to be given. 

“Greybeards. Masters of the way of the voice. They must have heard your thu’um from High Hrothgar. That was a summons for your presence.” 

“What do they want with me?” 

“If you truly are Dragonborn, they will teach you how to use your gift. Unhinged power like that should not be left untrained by those who know how.” 

Was this an admission of belief in her claims? He did not outright say she is Dragonborn. But what more proof does he need? 

“You’re suggesting I got to them, then?” It is difficult to know who to trust and who not to trust. The Jarl had not given her any reason, until now, not to trust him. He had been gracious enough to put she and Kaidan up for days. His faith in the tales of his ancestors had seemed to waver perhaps out of fear. If he was wary of all of this, Greybeards included, why shouldn’t she also be?

“I would not ignore the Greybeards. They would not have summoned you if they did not think you were Dragonborn.”

This was not a decision she could make on a whim and not one she could make alone. Glancing back toward Kaidan, her companion, she would first have to discuss this with him as he had indebted himself to her. 

“I would like to...apologize, Vael. You have done Whiterun great services that I will not soon forget. You and Kaidan are most welcome here if you wish to stay another night. And if you decide to make the pilgrimage to High Hrothgar, I will see to it that you are taken by carriage to Ivarstead.” Somewhat calmed, humbled, the Jarl’s hospitality returns tenfold. Though, if she knows Kaidan at all by now, he’s still wondering where their reward from their first mission is. 

“Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf.” Is all Vael has to say now, as there is much more thinking to be done than speaking. 

She starts toward her respective quarters, Kaidan following after her until they are being spoken at again. “Your payment for your exertions at Bleak Falls Barrow will be packed away and yours for the taking by morning. You have done well. Both of you. You have earned yourself a good night’s rest.” 

Nodding once in agreement, they see themselves to the privacy of Vael’s room. Once he’s inside, she closes the door behind her, leaning her weight into the wood and grumbling to herself as she sinks to the ground, resolving to look down at the floor panels between her bent knees rather than at Kaidan out of embarrassment. The both of them had been so caught up in the events and people around them that they hadn’t been spared time to acknowledge how much has already changed and how much is going to continue to change. Vael feared, perhaps a bit too much, for Kaidan’s reaction now that they are alone. 

Plucking up the courage, she peers with her tired eyes up at him. From this angle, Vael looks very much defeated and small. He almost can’t believe that such a mighty shout came from someone who could look so defeated. He can’t deny that he feels pretty beat up, too. Much less on the inside than she, however. Physical wounds are much easier to heal than emotional ones. He won’t be the first to admit it, but he knows it to be true. 

“What now?” 

The way Kaidan sees it, Vael has two options; go to the Greybeards or don’t. He has one; follow where she leads. Though, he is partial to want to make that journey up the 7000 steps for his own curiosity’s sake. If she so chooses, he would get to do just that. But he wouldn’t actively persuade her either way. This is her decision to make and his opinion is just that, an opinion. And really, he can’t be the judge of what is right and wrong in terms of how to handle this anyway considering he’s not thought to be Dragonborn. He did not devour a dragon soul and he did not shout in the dragon language. The man could no do such things.

“Y’can’t deny what happened tonight, lass.” Supplies Kaidan in a soft voice, nearing her to crouch down. She looks no less beleaguered up close, the circles under her bright eyes darkened and her normally tanned skin paled with worry of their next move. Vael knows his simple response is not meant to sway her in any way, but to make her understand that these things, these experiences, happened for reasons beyond either of them, but for reasons, nonetheless. 

Vael releases a light scoff, allowing a faint humorless smile to form on her lips. “I couldn’t forget this even if I wanted to.” 

That was the plain fact of the matter. One can forget where they’ve placed an item or become unable to recall even their own name with old age, but they won’t ever forget defeating a dragon or the fact that two souls, their own and the dragon’s, lives inside of them. But to be frank, Vael isn’t sure she wants to know what might happen should she ignore the call of the Greybeards, either. 

And like the dragon soul, a conflict begins to find solace residing in Vael, tearing her up. Kaidan doesn’t have to so much as look at her to know of her ambivalence. 

“You’re looking for answers, aren’t you? The Greybeards just might have every answer you’re looking for. Might take some of the burden of ambiguity off your shoulders.” 

The Jarl did say he would provide them passage which would also relieve both Kaidan and Vael of the troubles that come with traveling by foot. It might be foolish not to take this opportunity to go. Vael was summoned, after all. 

“I think I’d like to sleep on it. I don’t have the energy to pander back and forth right now.” It’s the first decision she’s able to make with a clear conscious. 

“I can help you with that.” Agreeing with her is Kaidan who makes to stand to his full height, offering a hand to her and a short chortle when she shoots him a look. “Conserving energy, I mean.” With a reinforced gesture of his extended hand, she takes it, allowing him to pull her up from her huddled spot on the ground.

Vael can’t seem to meet his eyes even now. Not that it’s necessarily easier given their difference in height, but for shame. She tries, inwardly, to reason with herself. If he were at all frightened by her, wouldn’t he have kept his distance? Wouldn’t he had just up and left her? She hadn’t seen the look on his face when she shouted, utilizing the lone word she knows to make the Jarl hear her. She can’t wipe away the way his features beheld such terror. Yet, he allows her to stay within his walls, no doubt prepared fully to lay awake tonight with fear that she may strike again. 

After many moments of unshared throughs between them, Kaidan clasps gently onto Vael’s shoulder to leave her to those haunting thoughts, rounding her to pull the handle of the door. But she stops him on impulse, throwing her hand between the closing door.

“Kaidan?” 

He pauses to hear what she's got to say and leans forward, prompting her to say it after not saying much at all to him. Words fail her, lips opening and closing for sentences and questions that just won't come out. Visibly, she deflates where she stands. Kaidan's lips press into a thin line, sympathetic toward her.

“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll be right across the hall if you need me, yeah? Get some rest.” 

Closing her eyes, she resolves to do as he says, as she had said she was going to do on her own accord. Only when her door shuts do her eyes flicker back open. And now, she is alone, the final sounds of Kaidan retiring to his room fading to the burning wicks of the candles illuminating the area. 

In desperate need of sleep as Vael is, it’s likely not to come. The question on her mind is this; If dragons are the monsters, then why does she, Dragonborn, feel like one, too? 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo!!! this chapter was actually supposed to be chapter 10 and these two were supposed to be in ivarstead already but i WRITE TOO DAMN MUCH AND ADD TOO MUCH AND AM MAKING THIS MUCH MORE SLOW BURNED THAN I INTENDED LMAO. BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE! it's kind of a filler chapter so we aren't hopping from one event to the next without some downtime to soak it all in.
> 
> ALSO!!! i shifted into kai's pov for this chapter...how do we feel about it because i'd like to get more of his pov in here where it fits! 
> 
> AS ALWAYS THANK YOU FOR READING AND COMMENTING BECAUSE IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME AND I WOULDN'T KEEP UPLOADING IF NOT FOR YOUR KIND WORDS AND ENCOURAGEMENT <3

Vael could not sleep for several hours after she returned to her room and Kaidan to his. She laid awake with only the flickering candlelight to remind her that she was still in a state of consciousness, their shadowy movements unwavering with the consistent draft of Dragonsreach. Beneath the furs, however, she feels nothing and hadn’t given the chill nary a thought as all of them were reflections of what had happened and restlessness for what has yet to happen. Whatever that may be...

When she does succumb to slumber, it’s as the sun rises and her body can no longer handle being awake. She might have been grateful for this if she could escape her dreams that were made of memories. It only proved for a fitful and patchy sleep. Still, it was rest, nonetheless. On a handful of accounts within a time frame she can’t quite make out, her door was opened but she hadn’t the strength (or desire to know who had entered) to open her eyes.

Not fully, anyway. Here and there, she would blink heavily, vision too blurred to make out anything in particular. Except, at some point, on the nightstand was a bronze tray with tea and an assortment of bread brought to her by the maid who, had come to check in on her at least three times already unbeknownst to her. But the bread was likely stale by now and the tea cold. 

Kaidan had left Vael to rest into the late hours of the morning, taking into account...well...everything. He occupied himself with breakfast presented to him upon his own platter by the overly friendly elder maid. Sleep wasn’t too difficult a feat for Kaidan the night previous, as he has endured quite a bit that, for anyone far less exposed than he, would have had nightmares for days. That isn’t to say he’s not concerned for the future of Skyrim. It’s one thing to off a bandit or a rabies infected skeever here and there. Oblivion, he would even fight off more Thalmor Justiciars if given the chance. But a dragon...a platoon of soldiers could hardly take it down. 

And of course, if not for Vael’s quick thinking, it might have taken a turn for the worse. 

Maybe that’s just what happened for Vael, who, as far as he knows, is still asleep. That, or she’s rocking herself in the corner of her room. The utter fear that had been plastered over her from head to toe was unmistakable. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t taken aback as well after what he witnessed. It’s nothing in collation to experiencing it first hand. But he’d keep that to himself. Even if he was sure last night that she thought him to be frightened of her, so much so that she was almost forthright in asking if he was. 

When faced with her on the verge of asking such a thing, eye to eye, or as eye to eye as he could be with Vael, he couldn’t find a trace of fear in him. Not toward her or what she may or may not be or what she could do. He wasn’t in a place to judge, either. He knew quite well that the real monsters are humans without inherently special powers or abilities who have sick minds, cold hearts and ill intentions. 

Sure, he wasn’t unperturbed by the otherworldly display, but he has seen things far worse, performed by the worst of people. 

He could not say the same for the Jarl, however. The man apologized to Vael after insinuating she wasn’t what she claimed, what she was named and what everyone in her proximity saw was not what anyone thought it was. He was afraid. Afraid of the dragons, afraid of not being able to protect his hold, afraid of Vael. Gentle and kind as he has known Vael to be during the span of the week he has been her companion, when she isn’t arguing with him, with a thu’um like hers, perhaps he had good reason to be a bit scared. 

Kaidan? No. It’d take a lot to truly and wholly scare him. And he could see it in Vael’s face that she was more afraid of herself than anyone else could be. Another issue he can sympathise with. 

By just passed midday, he was called for by the Jarl himself, his steward sent for knocking and procuring Kaidan from his room. As he starts for the Great Hall, a maid is slipping into Vael’s quarters, pitcher in hand and a cloth over her forearm. Kaidan wonders then, for a brief moment, if she knows what occured last night. And not just with the dragon. If she hadn’t felt the tremors, if she hadn’t heard what caused them, then her senses were not faring well in old age. Intentions of meeting with the Jarl as soon as possible are diverted to ask how Vael is holding up. He might even be able to convince the maid to let him into her room to speak with her. 

“Is she awake, yet?” He’s much taller than the woman and can easily see over her. But it’s less about seeing over her and more about seeing through the thin sliver of opening that leads inside. Tilting his head in a few different directions, he surmises that he might as well wait for a response. 

“She was sleeping like a baby the last I checked. The Jarl instructed me to make sure she was tended to.” 

Better her than Proventus. Trusted by Balgruuf or not, a strange man seeing himself into Vael’s room didn’t sit well with him. Nor would it bode well for Proventus. 

“She’s okay though, right?” Presses Kaidan for confirmation. He had left her on terms allowing for her to come to him should she need him. She never came and he hadn’t seen her since. 

“Just fine, dear.” Coos the woman for sake of putting Kaidan at ease. “She’s just tired and in need of a bath, but she is alright.” Whether Vael will recall it or not, she and the maid had a conversation. A short and mumbled conversation with little dictation of actual words, but a conversation, nevertheless. And it plain as day that her hair was mussed and knotted and that she hadn’t washed away the grime stuck to her face or beneath the beds of her fingernails. 

Make no mistake, he trusts the maid no more than he trusts Proventus, but he doesn’t have suspicion beyond his own worries that she isn’t being truthful. One more try to gain entry couldn’t hurt, though. 

“Do you mind if I go to her myself? Haven’t seen her since last night.”

Glancing behind her, the maid finds the brunette still passed out in the bed, limbs tossed in all different directions. She wasn’t told to wake her at any given point in the day, but what authority does she hold over the girl that the man doesn’t? Wanting to compromise, she sighs as she turns her head back to look upward at him. 

“I heard Jarl Balgruuf would like to speak with you. I’ll wake her and by the time you’re through, you can see her.” He would prefer sooner than later, but it’s best later than not at all. Agreeing, he leaves the woman to her duties. 

Descending the stairs into the Great Hall, Kaidan catches view of a seemingly confidential exchange between the Jarl , who speaks in hushed tones, and Farengar. It would be a miracle if that crack pot came up with something at all useful. Now that he knows it takes more than just a good handle on language comprehension to understand that of the dragon tongue, it’s likely that he’ll need extra help in cracking the code. 

Paused, a booted foot on the last stair and the other on the wooden floor, he waits for Balgruuf to take notice of his presence. When he does, it’s with a short glance and a bid farewell to the wizard before closing the distance between them, leaning in to mutter, “Come with me, we will speak in private.” 

Tense with the man’s hand on his shoulder, he allows for him to lead them both back up to his strategy room from which Kaidan had just come from. He hopes this conversation is worth the back and forth and secrecy. From across the table moves the Jarl, Kaidan left to his own end, giving space that he would have soon required, anyway. All the while, Kaidan eyes him. 

“Your friend...is she...?” 

“Don’t know.” Kaidan replies shortly, resentfully. “The maid wouldn’t let me see her.” Expressing regret for this news is the Jarl which Kaidan finds suspicious when it was he who ordered the woman to play gatekeeper. 

“This means she has not made a decision yet of whether she will answer the summons of the Greybeards?” 

“Not to my knowledge, no.” 

Surely he is getting to something here. Otherwise, Kaidan has no interest in small talk. Besides, the sooner he was done here, the sooner he could see Vael. Then maybe he’d be able to get those answers for his own knowledge. 

Behind the blond are bookshelves doubling him in height, plentiful in novels, journals, maps and all else one could think to shove between leather bounding. Pulling from the collection are a stack of books already tied together for easy carrying. They are placed upon the table surface, pulling Kaidan’s curious eyes doward.

**The Book of the Dragonborn**

“I had a member of my court scour the library for these books. They will shed light on what Vael is potentially dealing with. I would ask you take these to her when you see her next.” At bequest of the Jarl, and for Vael to gain understanding she deserves, Kaidan nods. 

“I’ll take them to her now.” He’s eager to see her, but just slightly more eager to be away from Balgruuf. Generous as he is, he was quick to dismiss Vael the night before. It would take more than common decency and gifts to alter his opinion now. 

“Of course. **But** \---there is something _else_.” 

Optics narrow as Kaidan stops in his tracks to turn his head over his shoulder. He’s heard that before. If not for his own restrain, he might’ve told the Jarl to, respectfully, fuck off. If the rest of this man’s tasks were anything like they have already experienced, he would have to decline on behalf of himself and the likes of Vael who has been left disturbed. Kaidan bites his tongue rather, and listens.

“Those books can educate her on the history of the Dragons and the Dragonborns of old. But only the Greybeards can give her what she must seek deep down. Just food for thought when delivering them.” 

He told himself he wouldn’t attempt to persuade her, thus rendering the Jarl’s _food for thought_ a waste of breath. Kaidan will, however, deliver these books. And perhaps when she’s through with them, he’ll have a read, too. If this is to be a recurring theme in their day to day lives, it would be most beneficial to be learned in the matter. 

“Aye.” 

ooo

Already a third of the way awake by the time the maid visits her for a fourth time today, Vael cracks open an eye that’s having a bit of a difficult time adjusting. It would be so easy to just shut it and keep it that way for a little while longer. Except, that’s been her logic all day. Thus far, it’s proven to be wrong, sleep more work than profitable to her well being. Depleted of energy, Vael’s muscles feel like bruised fruit and heavy stone simultaneously. She grovels as she attempts to move, the maid leans over her, hovering, taking up what little she can already see of the room. 

“Waking up, I see.” Comments the white haired woman. 

_With great difficulty._

Mouth as dry as the sandy beaches of Tel Mithryn, Vael can hardly bring herself to speak, let alone open her mouth. The sound of liquid being poured to her left is enough to help her muster all the strength she’s got. If waking for a glass of water will aid her, she’ll keep her moaning to herself. The brunette opens her second eye and pushes herself into a seated position, lazily kicking away the furs from her overheated body. 

Also seating herself upon the bed is the maid who, with the glass of water in her hand, lifts it to Vael’s lips. Suddenly, she grows stiff like her neck. Was the maid quite aware of last night? If she is, she’s doing a phenomenal job at maintaining composure. Then again, what other scandals and horrors have happened within these stone walls that have conditioned her to respond in such an unbothered manner?

“Thanks,” is all she can manage, taking the glass between her lithe fingers and lifting to press the rim to her mouth. It holds no chance against Vael’s thirst, nor does the second or third glass. Each of which are drained for all they’re worth. The elder chortles, the habit of straightening up her surroundings prevalent in the way she begins to sort out Vael’s nightstand. 

“Your handsome friend came looking for you. I suspect he’s worried about you. I can’t say I blame him. You’ve only just woken and it’s nearly time to prepare for supper!” 

Had she really slept the day away? Vael caught the earliest glimpses of sunlight before she finally fell asleep In fitful sleeps like the one she had, the concept of time is nonexistent. And all she can say for sure is that the feeling of wasting a day is not a good one. That, and she’s filthy. This bed would have to be stripped as would Vael. But now, her main priority is seeing Kaidan. 

They still had to talk and now that she’s less frantic and (only slightly) rested, it would be most prudent to get their minds made up. Well, her _own_ mind. She could try to make this a group effort but he’s already made it clear that where she goes, he will follow. This only makes it harder with all of the pressure on her shoulders. 

“Where is he now? Kaidan?” She asks, tossing her legs over the edge of the bedm her shift billowy as it follows, partially scrunched beneath her thighs. 

“The Jarl requested to speak with him.”

“Oh...well, does the Jarl want to speak with me as well? I’ll go to them. I just need to get dressed---” Standing, she’s quickly curbed, the maid releasing a abrupt, shrill whoop that causes Vael to flinch, deeply confused. 

“You are coming with me for a bath, missy. I won’t have you walking these halls in this state. Come along.” Insists the woman, piling the laundered dress and undergarments she had arrived in days before into her arms. 

Left without another option, she’s led, barefoot and quite indecently in her white shift, to the sudatory down the corridor and through the double doors. It smells strongly of salts and herbs, crisp scents despite the strong humidity that is surely doing wonders for the tension in Vael’s forehead and the scratchiness of her throat. She places her clean clothes upon the seat of a chair in the corner of the room while the maid prepares her bath. Dumping another two or three bucket fulls of hot water into the basin, she finishes it off with a smattering of lavender throughout, stirring it with a thick wooden rod. 

When the maid leaves her to strip off her shift and underthings, Vael is actually grateful she was dragged here first. Slipping into heated water, she becomes engulfed by it in all of the right places, the warmth soothing her aches and the lavender soothing her mind. This reminds her of home, especially when she closes her eyes and sinks below the surface because water is water. Though, she knows full well that when she comes up for air, it won’t be Elynea greeting her. Even if she were to be there, as elated as Vael would be, she doesn’t think Elynea would have a solution for her. But a talk wouldn’t hurt. She would give her tough love and tell her that responsibility is something guaranteed in life. If you’ve got responsibility, then you’ve got to give it your all. 

Talvas...Talvas would do little to aid in putting Vael at ease. A worrier, and a bit skitzy, he might only add to her indecisiveness. Oh, but he means well always. And he’s brilliant, gifted. At some point, when he’s had time to wrap his cranium around it all, he’d want to meet these Greybeards himself. But he won’t have a clue that they even exist. Much has happened since the other night when she sat down to pen her first letter to him. She almost wishes she would have waited. But if she had had even the smallest inkling of what was to come, it would have been a much longer roll of parchment, and she would have been even more of an anxious mess.

Vael eventually does come bobbing up from underwater, enough that she can breathe. Exhaling, bubbles skim the water, tickling the upturned tip of her nose. She doesn’t waste much more time in the water when she knows Kaidan will be returning from his chat with the Jarl sometime soon and if he’s been looking to see her, she won’t keep him waiting. And, of course, she’d like to know what that private conversation consisted of.

Upon a hasty arrival to her room, hasty since she was forced out and left shoeless by the maid and her feet are like ice, she finds just the man on her mind. Held in his arms are what look to be a stack of books he’s only seconds from placing on the vanity pressed against the wall. 

“What’ve you got there?” Kaidan perks up, turning at the sound of silence being broken by her soft voice.

Vael closes the door to offer them both privacy. She wouldn’t put it passed the maid to press her pyring ear against the door should she come passing through. Nearing him, drying cloth in hand to squeeze the moisture from her wet locks, her eyes are fixed on the books.

“They’re from the Jarl. He asked me to give them to you. Said they’d offer some insight on...y’know. _You_.” The books are presented to her with a brief explanation.

Vael, now calm, is able to produce something of a chuckle in response. She sets aside the cloth, laying it to dry over the footboard of the four poster bed in favor of examining the tome tied with fraying string. Beneath is the title bearing the word **DRAGONBORN** among it. Ghostly do her fingers trace the impression in the leathery cover.

“All of these have to do with Dragonborn?” She asks, wondering if all three of them are truly packed full of information pertaining to all of this. 

“It’s not some uncommon tale here in Skyrim, Vael. this is prophecy to the Nords.” Kaidan reminds her, setting down the short stack to untie it for her. 

Last night, she settled for the few simplified answers she was given by the guards and Balgruuf all because she was fraught and in need of them to make sense of it in her own head. Before her now are three books full of details that she had been uninformed of and evaded from until now. But she deduces that reading may not have been of any help to her while in such an emotional plight. Taking a seat beside the books is Vael who takes a moment to survey each of them individually from their coloring to their titles and even the first pages. 

Then, she slouches with an audible huff, the air holding her up deflating her. It’s wishful thinking that’s disappointed her. If these books really were to contain everything she needs to know and then some, what was the purpose of being summoned by the Greybeards? None of the writers seemed to go by such a collective moniker. And if they are considered to be the masters, then are these authors nothing more than just authors who know of the subject well enough to write about it? 

“I still haven’t decided.” Says Vael after some moments of quiet, looking up at Kaidan. 

He’s heedful of her statement, the hunch that she has yet to choose nothing of tremendous surprise to him, but of frustration to her. Even Balgruuf is awaiting a decision which might have been a playing factor in gifting her these books.

When he doesn’t answer, merely stands before her and keeps his thoughts to himself rather than sharing with Vael, she impels him to give her something more than what he had last night when he spoke of her searching for answers. Well, she’s got a bunch right here on her bed and now the only answer she needs is if she should go to the Greybeards or not. “Do you have anything to say? Any opinions?” 

“Look,” Sighs Kaidan, “I can have all the opinions I want, but you’re the one who was summoned. It’s your choice what you do next.” 

“I...I don’t know what to do!” This admission of this is something the both of them are already very much privy to. And in all fairness, it's no simple yes or no. Vael, ever the thinker, is weighing every possible outcome, good and bad, that could transpire. This may just be a trait inherited from her most dear friend, Talvas. 

Leaning into the wooden stanchion of her bed with crossed arms, it looks as if he’s almost simpering as he says, “Welcome to the curse of free will.” 

Irked by his inappropriate smirking, she Vael pops up from her spot on the bed, the books bouncing a bit from her startling movement, Vael begins to pace about the room, floorboards creaking beneath her strides. Kaidan can only lean back and watch each time she passes back and forth, his nonchalant disposition unfathomable to Vael who should only hope to ever be so at peace or at least have the ability to act it. Ultimately, she comes to a halt before him.

“Kaidan...do I really have free will if I am what everyone thinks I am? If I am Dragonborn in a time where dragons are returning to Nirn to destroy it, I don’t think I’ve got much of a choice.” Exasperatedly does she rebuke his talk of free will, staring resolutely. Deep down she’s know what she should do, what, if Dragonborn is who she is, she HAS to do. Her fear keeps her from taking on such a feat. 

Leaning forward into her space just so, Kaidan murmurs, “I think you’ve made one, lass.” 

Falling back from her prickly deportment displayed toward him, Vael thinks he may be right. For she has made up her mind, hasn’t she...the young woman graviates back to her bed where she drops her attention to the books strewn about the fur. Vael lets out a long breath.

“You’re alright with traveling to answer their summons, then?” 

“I'd be more worried if you were going alone. I wouldn't let that happen, anyway. Besides, I’ve wanted to make that pilgrimage myself. Now I’ve got a solid reason to.” There were plenty of places Kaidan sought to see in Skyrim. Very of few of them he’s checked off since his arrival, detoured and led astray, regretfully.

“You wouldn’t have indulged yourself if this weren’t the circumstance?” 

With a weak shrug of shoulders that are anything but, he says, “Wouldn’t have been so far up on my list of things to do, that’s for sure.” 

“Ah..right, I forgot you kept yourself busy bounty hunting.”

Not the least bit put off by her jesting comment, Kaidan counters with, "When you're searching for people, you tend not to have time to admire your surroundings." 

"But I would imagine that you are _aware_ of them, are you not?" Quips Vael, intent to pay him forward the uncessessary rejoinder he provided earlier when she was at her least calm. It's working, needless to say.

"You've got a lot of reading to get to. Might want to get a start on that."

She hums softly to herself, content as she takes to cracking open the first book of the now untidy pile. "I'll tell the Jarl of my decision later, then." 

Kaidan sees himself toward her door and, whether mockingly or not, bows his head. "Until later, then."


End file.
